July 10, 2007
The office staff snickered, and one wag replied by saying "That's right, and our refueling rigs are celebrating as we speak."
Albers walked a short distance from the Spyker building and sat on the curb, head bowed. "I don't understand," he muttered. "It's not MY fault my sponsorship money didn't come through. Did they have to fire me for that? Aren't I the best offroad driver in F1?"
A dark man stood above Albers, silhouetted against the noonday sun. "Csakugyan? Neked van nem sikerul," said the man, who looked vaguely familiar.
"I know you, don't I," asked Albers. "Why do you speak Hungarian?"
"En vagyok kerlelhetetlen halal, ugyel vmire teged. Eljossz?" The dark man extended his hand to Albers.
He took the gloved hand. "You remind me of..."
The dark man raised the visor of his helmet. "Would you like fries with that?"
Loved your account of Albers' fate with Spyker. And WHOOHOO...a Zsolt "sighting." ;-)
Posted by: Mallory at July 10, 2007 11:24 PM (Bc7do)
Posted by: Steven Den Beste at July 11, 2007 12:11 PM (+rSRq)
Posted by: Will at July 11, 2007 01:35 PM (olS40)
Posted by: Mike at July 11, 2007 05:33 PM (voTPm)
Posted by: Steven Den Beste at July 11, 2007 07:13 PM (+rSRq)
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