The trumpts blare as the newly reconditioned Care Car backs out of the garage. Dicksbro, watches the big prick ... er ... vehicle roll slowly into the brilliant light of the afternoon sunshine. Dressed now in his white tights, purple pouch, and muscle shirt reading "DB" in large letters, the Super Hero looks magnificent.
Emerging from the Care Car. Bill Joe Ray Bob, the mechanic, emerges followed by his trusty (and buxom) assistants ... Mary Lou, Billy Jean, Susie Mae, and Miss Prissy.
"Damn, Billy Joe," DB stammers, "You'st got more pussy than any ol' Super Hero."
"Yeah," Bill Joe Ray Bob answers. "Ever since them damn Yankee folks stuck them damn ol' puter thingy's into cars, we became pure classy good ol' boys in the car fixin business. And classy good ol' boys get lots of pretty pussies wantin' to spend time wit ya."
"Billy Joe, what's these repairs going to costeth me?" a sudden sign of fear passing over DB's face.
"Hey, DB, ya' ol' mudderluckin' hero type ... ya' gotta ask ... ya kaint' ford it .." Billy Joe Ray Bob laughs. "Dontcha worry, ya' ol' corn whisky drinkin fool, dis one's on da' big Billy Joe."
With a great sigh of relief, DB responds, "Thankest you, Bill Joe. Thankest you greatly. Your name willith shine among the saints."
"DB, ya' ol' pussy licking, cuny probin' sonna gun, you all just drop off my card whenevers ya' done rescue one dem Pixie babes ... k man?"
"Billy Joe, your job is doneth ... I must now race to the beautiful SugarSprinkles aid ... Hiyo, Ohio, Toledo ... er ..."
Billy Joe interrupts. "DB, cut da crap and get goin'"
DB's mechanic in his own, quaint, colorful way cuts off the Super Hero, wanting him to focus on the hard work ahead rather than the formalities of Super Herodom.