Salesman: Hey, John, I'm calling because we need some more stuff for the auto loan!
Me: You mean the auto loan for a car I've now been driving for almost a week?
Salesman: Yeah! See, I need some pay stubs.
Me: Um - yeah. Remember those things I brought down to you on Sunday? The pieces of paper that were the printouts of my work giving me money in exchange for services rendered? Those were - pay stubs.
Salesman: Oh, well, we need some more.
Me: OK - fine. What else.
Salesman: Proof of residency. Water bill, something like that.
Me: Naturally - I fully realize that having my name on the checking, savings, credit card, pay stubs, and the like doesn't *really* mean I live here. What else?
Me: I left some.
Salesman: We need more.
Salesman: Proof of circumcision.
Salesman: Yes - I don't know if you need to take the picture, or your wife, or a medical doctor, but we need some proof that you had the Captain Happy Cape sliced off.
Me: You've got to be -
Salesman: After that, of course, we're going to need a complete anal probe. We can't risk you croaking before you paid off your loan. We can set up an appointment with a proctologist. Great guy, and he uses a very pleasant probe lube that tingles.
Me: Are you certain that this is all you need?
Salesman: I know it's a 40 minute drive from you to the dealership, but could you drive all of it down?
Me: Why can't I email it to you?
Salesman: Do you really want pictures of your wang floating around the Internet?
Me: Um, not really.
Anyway. I guess I need to go find the camera.