"Could you kick the AC back on, please?"

Midnight raises a hoof and strains toward the window shaker set up off to my left. Needless to say, even with an accompanying grunt and groan while reaching, her hoof doesn't quite bridge the five-foot or so gap. "No, I can't get it," she mumbles, dropping her leg back into my lap.

"Well, that sucks. Wish there was a way you could manipulate the control panel from here on the couch," I muse, making sure to gently poke at the horn on her head with my index finger.

"Yeah, it would be nice – but you also have legs that could aid you in that endeavor," Midnight counters.

"Very true. You have legs as well," I remind her. "And currently, you're laying on mine."

"Not completely," she protests, raising a leg again just to motion toward my lower legs which hang off the couch. Of course, there isn't much that I can do with them, since Midnight's upper half of her body occupies my lap, with her head leaning against my chest while I retain a seated position.

But if she really wants to play this game... "Alright, guess I gotta get up to get some cooler air in here," I sigh, taking my hands away from her form in preparation to push myself up off the couch.

I don't have to make any further moves, for a scrap piece of metal soars through the air from who knows where to frantically peck and twist at the air conditioner control panel. Within seconds, the familiar hum emanates from the appliance, trailed by a refreshing cool breeze shortly thereafter.

"Well damn, that thing must be scared of seeing my ugly mug or the sensation of my touch. When did that feature get activated?" I wonder aloud.

"You getting up meant I was getting up – that's not gonna happen," Midnight mutters.

"Hey, you finally connected the dots – that's why I threatened to get up," I cheer, patting her on the head. "Good job."

"Fuck you."

"Uh – maybe in a bit. I ate a little too much at dinner," I comment.

I can feel Midnight's eyes burrow into me with that offhand remark, but I willfully avoid acknowledging the look as the TV finally ends its commercial break.

It's funny how disapproving Midnight is about suggestive sort of things like that. Considering how much of a vulgar vocabulary she possesses and that her modesty comes down to just the strategic placement of her tail, she is pretty uptight.

That doesn't stop her from being quite the vocal one in the bedroom, but that's going down a trail of thought best left alone for now...

"I'm going $149k on the split window '63," Midnight remarks as her attention snaps back to the TV as well.

"Are you high? We haven't heard shit about the options on the car and only seen it at a passing glance a few times."

"Doesn't matter – I just feel it."

Starla's stay and resultant viewing of auto auctions on TV each night has led to a change of heart on my end. While knowing the end result for the cars sold is likely garage queen status... it is kinda neat to see what's out there. On top of that, Midnight and I have made it into a sort of game to make it even more entertaining – each of us sets a 'bid' before the auction, and whoever has the closest figure 'wins' that car.

There really aren't any rules beyond that and there's no end goal or prize... and oftentimes, we sit there and try to 'trade' what we have for something more desirable that the other possesses.

It's nonsensical and neither of us keeps track beyond the night – and I don't always remember what all I have by the end. Midnight always does with her damn supercomputer brain – but nevertheless, we tend to get pretty invested in the moment.

"Have you been looking up values on your laptop to cheat?" I suggestively accuse her.

"How is that cheating?"

"It's a rule that I made."

"Yeah, just now."

"So?"

"It's your own damn fault for being lazy and not informing yourself on the market," she chastises.

"Oh, whatever. I guess I'll go $179k," I grumble.

"But you haven't even heard the options or conditions yet!" Midnight mocks me with a nasally voice. I poke her in the nose for that, making her sniff and snort in response.

"You're just full of fire tonight, aren't you?"

Midnight doesn't say anything, preferring to turn and hold her head high while meeting my gaze, offering a mischievous fanged grin. In the meantime, the silver Corvette coupe is rolled onto the stage at the auction house. With the starting bid at only $30k, bidding takes off at a blistering pace while camera flashes shine off the deep metallic paint. I'm a bit skeptical about that low of a starting bid. Do they make replica bodies for these things? Maybe it's not a genuine car.

But that thought dies within a minute or two once the price rockets into the six figures. Nevertheless, once past that magical threshold, the bidding war begins to slow...

Dammit, maybe I should have listened to the options and conditions before throwing a bid out. But I was too caught up in bickering, and the fact that Midnight had already tossed out a bid. I could have undercut her...

"I got this," Midnight crows, patting my leg.

"If you do win it, it's only by technicality of me being too high."

"Aww, someone sounds like a sore loser~" Midnight sings, not bothering to hold back on her gloating now as she leans in toward my face.

"I'll bite you."

"And I'll bite back. Guess who wins that fight, too?"

"... then I'll flick your ear or nose again," I mumble, conceding her point. That satisfies Midnight enough to settle back down in my lap

But by that time, bidding has slowed to a snail's pace, making it obvious I'm not winning a split window. In fact, once the gavel bangs the auction closed, Mid's bid is over the final price tag by only a thousand bucks and change. I can practically feel the smarmy sort of expression Midnight is displaying without even looking down at her – and I refuse to view it. "Not giving you the satisfaction."

But Midnight refuses to let it go, once again raising her head until her face blocks my view. "I still got the split window, so nyah," she brags, sticking her tongue out.

Alright, that's enough. With that final act, I reach behind her head and fiddle with the ponytail she's sported all day today. "What the hell are you doing?" she warily asks as my hand finds the scrunchie that holds her hair in place.

"Don't worry about it." Despite my weak assurance, Midnight still tries putting up a little bit of a struggle. Unfortunately for her, my fingers are deft enough to hang on and peel off her dark blue scrunchies, setting her hair free.

"You fucking—"

That's as far as she gets; as I bring my hand back out from behind her, I've already armed myself with the elastic hair tie, making it easy to use my other hand to draw it tight, and let go.

"Pew!" I make sure to exclaim, just as the makeshift missile beans her in the forehead.

"Bastard!" she cries out, wincing just out of instinct.

"Well, that's what you get for being nasty."

While at a disadvantage due to her position, Midnight resorts to putting a hoof against my side, trying to push me over as retribution. But all I do is lean forward, trying to encapsulate her in my lap to use her as an anchor. What inevitably follows is a skirmish on the couch as we try wrestling each other into submission.

For a few minutes, the TV and our little game are all but forgotten; at some point, Midnight happens to cast an errant eye toward the program. Now separated from me and holding a spot solely on the couch, her spark of interest brings our shoving match to a halt. "What the hell is that thing?" she asks, pointing a hoof at the car being rolled up for auction.

It's an intermediate two-door car in a cool grey hue, with a black roof for a nice contrast. While I'm well aware of what she means by her question considering the... alterations, I decide to play stupid. "Dodge Coronet. '65, I'm pretty sure."

"I know that – but that's not a normal Coronet. I mean, besides the injection stacks coming through the hood. Obviously some sort of race car, but..."

She's not wrong in her convictions or sudden curiosity, as it is quite the bizarre creation upon closer look for someone not in the know. Aside from the injection stacks she mentioned and the fat rear tires combined with the skinny fronts, perhaps the most significant alteration of all is the wheelbase. The front wheels are moved forward several inches, to a point where they nearly reach the front bumper and completely remove all front overhang on this car. Not to be outdone, the rear wheels have also been shoved forward, nearly eliminating the sheet metal that should normally exist between the rear edge of the door and the leading edge of the wheel well... which makes for quite the drastic rear overhang.

Everything feels neatly tied together with the bold graphics on the door, emblazoned with 'Landy's Dodge' in big letters interrupted by a bright red fratzog in use as the company logo back in the day.

I pick up the remote, waiting for the perfect moment; once the camera pans out for a nice side view of the entire car, I pause the program and turn to Midnight. "It is an odd-looking car... would you call it a funny car?"

Middie proceeds to stare, slowly narrowing her eyes at me as she attempts to discern what I mean with what seems to be a play on words. "What exactly are you trying to get at here?" she finally concedes.

"Well... a couple of weeks ago, you were flipping through channels and ended up watching drag racing for a bit. You remember what those flop top dragsters were called?"

"They called em... oh. They called em funny cars I think. Are you telling me that's what that Coronet is?"

"That's the genesis of the name and the category, yes. Back then, the class was officially the Factory Experimental, or A/FX."

"You're telling me nothing on that car is custom work? That's factory?" she scoffs in disbelief, remaining skeptical of my claims.

"It's... kind of a misnomer." My lack of conviction in the answer I give her earns me another brief deadpan stare before Midnight shakes her head.

"That doesn't make sense. First you said it was factory, now you're saying it's custom work. It can't be both," she argues.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger here," I plead, putting my hands up in a defensive posture.

Of course, that only serves to egg Midnight on. She stares for a bit longer before jolting forward in a feint lunge at me.

Having seen enough nonsense, I reach toward her and seize her recently freed hair, only to flip it over her face. "Really?" she whines. "You really have to fuck it all up?"

"I figured the only solution here was to give you the pissy kitty treatment – throw a blanket over your head to calm you. But I don't have a blanket or towel on hand, soo..."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

I relent and help Midnight take care of her hair, brushing it away from her face. It isn't nearly as bad as she claims the mass of hair to be, but that doesn't stop her from pouting and huffing at the process like a spoiled princess.

"Better. Anyway, back to the car – please explain it so it makes sense to me. You're kinda all over the board here," she states.

"Wow, I got a 'please' out of you," I can't help but toss in before clearing my throat. "Anyway, they were factory in the sense that they started as any other unibody car rolling down the assembly line. But early on, they got pulled and sent to a separate area, where the modifications to the wheelbase and some weight-saving tricks were administered. The wheelbase aided in weight transfer for better launch, and of course, weight is an enemy of speed on the track. But once that was done, both these Coronets from Dodge and modified Belvederes from Plymouth were sold in small numbers to drag racing teams with connections to corporate."

"Huh. So I guess you really weren't just being a dolt about it." Her eyes turn back to the TV, giving the freeze-framed car another look – though I happen to spy her nose wrinkling a bit.

"You think it's kinda ugly despite the sound reasoning behind it, huh?"

"Yeah, kinda," she admits. "It's a more interesting story than my initial impression, which was a hillbilly's backyard project. But the wheelbase change is just... very unbalanced. I'm guessing there were other cars similar to this then, from other makes."

"Yeah, but it wasn't exactly a packed field," I reply, unpausing the program and letting it play out. "GM still had a ban on any factory racing, so anything from them in the class is more experimental than factory. Mercury had a Comet similar in idea, and Ford put together some Mustangs with the Cammer engine, which did okay – their weak point was timing chains that stretched and screwed up ignition timing."

Midnight's eyes dart from the TV back to me, befuddled by the last bit. "Cammer?"

"Huh, I really thought you might have stumbled upon that in your reading. Must have missed that section, eh?"

"I haven't done much reading about race cars and projects like that. If I had to guess, you're talking about an overhead cam engine that Ford put together in small numbers, but that's news to me."

"You're correct – it was an overhead camshaft version of their 427. Valiant effort, but long timing chains stretched under stress and changed timing by up to a few degrees during a pull. They were short-lived."

As the auction rolls on, the bidding is a bit lackluster – I don't know if this was really Dick Landy's car, considering the price only crawls past six figures. But as they hone in the cameras to focus on the interior, I see an interesting little quirk on the dashboard I had forgotten about.

"You remember when I said the pushbutton shift for the Torqueflite trans was popular with some drag racers?" I comment, pausing the TV again momentarily to point out the pod. "Landy was one of them – he retrofitted the system into this car, which was a year past its phaseout."

"Huh, I honestly wouldn't have noticed – that's kinda a neat connection to our 300C," Midnight muses. "I don't think this car is gonna sell – but you can have it as a freebie anyway if you want."

"Aww, thanks. I knew you had a heart somewhere in there," I jest.

"If I didn't give you shit, you'd be worried that I was sick or something."

"Well... yeah, probably."

Sure enough, the car doesn't reach the reserve bid; it's unceremoniously rolled off the stage, to be shipped back to the home it came from. Up behind it rolls another eye-catcher, a Lemon Twist '70 Barracuda.

"Yeah, you ain't winning this either, by the way," Midnight boasts. "Calling it $89k, on the nose."

Alright, now I'm even more skeptical of Midnight's cockiness – and since I've stopped multiple times in the last several minutes, I can sate my suspicions pretty quickly. Without saying anything, I fast-forward through the display and the beginning of the auction. When I press play again, the bidding has ended – and Midnight has hit the end result on the nose – $89k.

"You fucker – you've seen this one before, haven't you?" I grumble, turning to face her.

Midnight has turned her head away from me now, facing the kitchen. "I might have..." she idly responds. Her voice betrays a semblance of distraction rather than trying to play coy, only serving to confuse me. "Oh, by the way..."

When she turns her head to look at me, she's sporting a devilish grin – which I come to understand when I see what's floating beyond her in the air. "Pew!" she exclaims, just as the scrunchie from earlier is shot into my face.

"Alright, now you've done it, you shit!" I cry out. I tackle her to the couch before she can try to move away.

"Hey, get off me you fat fuck!" she exclaims, struggling underneath me. "I'll turn off the air conditioner!"

"No, that's just as bad for you as it is for me," I remind her. But this squabble has gone far enough, and it's time to end it with a secret I only found out recently...

Fumbling around her wings, my hands eventually find her sensitive sides that lay underneath.

"John, don't you fucking da—hahaHAHA!"

Those wings do a good job of hiding a ticklish spot, but they don't prevent me from exploiting it as I tickle her into a gigglefit.

Too bad, Mid. I figured there was a chink in your armor somewhere – and I finally found it.

Author's Note

This was an inspiration driven update when I first wrote it in the greentext original. Through the rabbit hole of getting back into scale model car building after a few years and seeing what's new, finding out a company is finally making AWB (altered wheelbase) Chrysler, and jogging my memory via search engine on some of the different cars. This particular pic from a January Mecum auction was the catalyst.