Section8
Cipher
Pete: How's it going sir? You looking at this beauty right here?
Bob: Er, yes. I've recently come into some money, so the wife and I thought we'd splash out on a new auto.
Pete: Ah, and is your lovely wife here, too?
Bob: No, she's off shopping for shoes.
Pete: I hear you, friend. My wife is exactly the same. In fact, we recently got ourselves a new car just because she needed the extra space in the trunk for her footwear shopping sprees.
Bob: Wow, that's a lot of shoes. My wife...
Pete: You're darn tootin' it's a lot of shoes. In fact my wife owns 40% of the worlds total shoe population, and I bet you can't even imagine how many pairs that is.
Bob: I, er, no. But...
Pete: Well, that makes two of us, pardner. Because there's no way in heck anyone can possibly count that many shoes. But you know what?
Bob: Er, what?
Pete: This car right here, has enough trunk space to fit them all.
Bob: I...really?
Pete: Yesiree, Bob. It's like a bottomless pit in there.
Bob: Wow, can I take a look?
Pete: Now, you wouldn't be accusing ol' Pistol Pete of lyin' through his teeth now, would ye?
Bob: No, it's just I...
Pete: See that big shiny plaque on the wall? The one that says in no nonsense letters "VP of Marketing?" That's all me, baby.
Bob: Oh, that's great. Listen...
Pete: And you know what that means? It means that Pete makes it his business to know everything about his product.
Bob: You...
Pete: So if ol' Pete says it's true, then you're only doing yourself an injustice if you try to question that knowledge.
Bob: Oh, that's reassuring. But I'm not, er, that is to say, boot space isn't really a concern for me.
Pete: Sure it is! One day, you're going to have to transport the ridiculous amounts of shoes your wife owns, and I tell ya, this is the only vehicle for it.
Bob: Okay, er, great. I'm more interested in how it runs.
Pete: Like a dream! But not just any old dream, this runs like the best dream you've ever had, even those messy teenage ones.
Bob: Ew, that's...
Pete: You gotta trust me on this one, pardner. It's a necessary evil to warn you about just what freaky thoughts this car can bring out in a man. It's just that freakin' good!
Bob: Is it fast, too?
Pete: You betcha! Faster than man has ever travelled. In fact, I'm only supposed to sell these to fighter pilots, since they're the only ones trained to withstand the G forces this baby pumps out.
Bob: That's a...
Pete: And I can tell by lookin' atcha that you ain't no jet pilot, am I right Chief? Of course I am. Big brawny guy like you probably couldn't even fit one of his biceps in a fighter cockpit. But I gotta say, you look like the kinda guy who can take this bull by the horns and show it who's boss, so we can overlook that little bit of paperwork.
Bob: Speaking of paperwork, have you got a brochure I could show my wife? She likes to read. I've never quite seen the fascination myself.
Pete: Haha! You're my kinda guy, fella. Who needs reading? Certainly not you, and certainly not your wife. Why give her a flimsy little list of "facts" when you can show off the real thing?
Bob: I'm sorry?
Pete: Show her the real deal! I guarantee you, if you drive out of here right now, your wife will never sit up reading in bed ever again because she'll be crawling all over you for making such an incredible purchase. Let me hit you with a price.
Bob: I don't really...
Pete: Sixty thousand.
Bob: Look, I really shouldn't say anything without getting my wife's opinion.
Pete: Remember the plaque? The big gold, no-nonsense plaque?
Bob: I guess...
Pete: And remember what it means? I means that Pete already knows what your wife is going to think of this, and she's going to love it.
Bob: Well, you do seem like a trustworthy guy...
Pete: You're effin' A right there, champ. Does Pete seem like the kinda guy that would beat his wife to death with her own shoes and stash her in the trunk of a car in his showroom, just so he can sell it to some patsy with more money than sense? Of course not. Now, do you want the best car in the universe or not?
Bob: Er, yes. I've recently come into some money, so the wife and I thought we'd splash out on a new auto.
Pete: Ah, and is your lovely wife here, too?
Bob: No, she's off shopping for shoes.
Pete: I hear you, friend. My wife is exactly the same. In fact, we recently got ourselves a new car just because she needed the extra space in the trunk for her footwear shopping sprees.
Bob: Wow, that's a lot of shoes. My wife...
Pete: You're darn tootin' it's a lot of shoes. In fact my wife owns 40% of the worlds total shoe population, and I bet you can't even imagine how many pairs that is.
Bob: I, er, no. But...
Pete: Well, that makes two of us, pardner. Because there's no way in heck anyone can possibly count that many shoes. But you know what?
Bob: Er, what?
Pete: This car right here, has enough trunk space to fit them all.
Bob: I...really?
Pete: Yesiree, Bob. It's like a bottomless pit in there.
Bob: Wow, can I take a look?
Pete: Now, you wouldn't be accusing ol' Pistol Pete of lyin' through his teeth now, would ye?
Bob: No, it's just I...
Pete: See that big shiny plaque on the wall? The one that says in no nonsense letters "VP of Marketing?" That's all me, baby.
Bob: Oh, that's great. Listen...
Pete: And you know what that means? It means that Pete makes it his business to know everything about his product.
Bob: You...
Pete: So if ol' Pete says it's true, then you're only doing yourself an injustice if you try to question that knowledge.
Bob: Oh, that's reassuring. But I'm not, er, that is to say, boot space isn't really a concern for me.
Pete: Sure it is! One day, you're going to have to transport the ridiculous amounts of shoes your wife owns, and I tell ya, this is the only vehicle for it.
Bob: Okay, er, great. I'm more interested in how it runs.
Pete: Like a dream! But not just any old dream, this runs like the best dream you've ever had, even those messy teenage ones.
Bob: Ew, that's...
Pete: You gotta trust me on this one, pardner. It's a necessary evil to warn you about just what freaky thoughts this car can bring out in a man. It's just that freakin' good!
Bob: Is it fast, too?
Pete: You betcha! Faster than man has ever travelled. In fact, I'm only supposed to sell these to fighter pilots, since they're the only ones trained to withstand the G forces this baby pumps out.
Bob: That's a...
Pete: And I can tell by lookin' atcha that you ain't no jet pilot, am I right Chief? Of course I am. Big brawny guy like you probably couldn't even fit one of his biceps in a fighter cockpit. But I gotta say, you look like the kinda guy who can take this bull by the horns and show it who's boss, so we can overlook that little bit of paperwork.
Bob: Speaking of paperwork, have you got a brochure I could show my wife? She likes to read. I've never quite seen the fascination myself.
Pete: Haha! You're my kinda guy, fella. Who needs reading? Certainly not you, and certainly not your wife. Why give her a flimsy little list of "facts" when you can show off the real thing?
Bob: I'm sorry?
Pete: Show her the real deal! I guarantee you, if you drive out of here right now, your wife will never sit up reading in bed ever again because she'll be crawling all over you for making such an incredible purchase. Let me hit you with a price.
Bob: I don't really...
Pete: Sixty thousand.
Bob: Look, I really shouldn't say anything without getting my wife's opinion.
Pete: Remember the plaque? The big gold, no-nonsense plaque?
Bob: I guess...
Pete: And remember what it means? I means that Pete already knows what your wife is going to think of this, and she's going to love it.
Bob: Well, you do seem like a trustworthy guy...
Pete: You're effin' A right there, champ. Does Pete seem like the kinda guy that would beat his wife to death with her own shoes and stash her in the trunk of a car in his showroom, just so he can sell it to some patsy with more money than sense? Of course not. Now, do you want the best car in the universe or not?
And how low do we go before we find the forms at the bottom of the entire 'net. 
