A Short Story?

It occurred to us this morning whether anyone had ever written a short story about a severely messed up fellow, a losing poker player and alcoholic, who ends up renting a car and then keeping that car as if he owned it? This fellow had intended to off himself and the car in California but then ended up back home as a beggar--but still with the car. He changed the oil and rotated the tires. Even drifting through the occasional car wash. Ever notice how much better a car drives after a good washing? Ah, but the tags were expiring as New Year's Eve/birthday approached. He also, alas, was overstaying his welcome at an acquaintence's run-down hovel of a house. And, to be honest, he was getting sick himself of this friend and that house. It's no fun to be a beggar. Better dead than beg. Cute. Just wondering if anyone had written a story along these lines.

Choices. Does one stay and watch "Magnolia" again or hustle off to the library to continue reading an interesting biography of Groucho Marx? We chose the latter. "Respect the C*ck. Tame the C*nt."

This fellow with the car--grand theft auto? What was he doing? Was he trying to out-irresponsible his sister? Where was his urge to struggle on and overcome his recent self-inflicted wounds? He seemed not to know. The life he lived when he was employed seems like such a distant memory. He had loved that life in many, many ways. But that life was also doomed to expire. Drinking in the morning on the way to work, and then at work. Hard to sustain. He didn't have cable or internet at home, all the better for motivation to go to work every day. How long could that motivation be sustained? Turns out just the other side of twenty years. Why stuggle anymore now that all that life has now vanished? Even the house is in the final stages...the Sheriff may be on the way now....He had some fun, it can't be denied. Fifteen thousand dollar online pots. Similiar live action pots. But it could not be sustained. Play carelessly with fire long enough and you get burned. Such a trite truism. Did he have the will and the guts that his brother exhibited ten years ago? Getting out, finally, before the year's end seemed, somehow, poetic. By what means though? Leap? Interred with the car? Combination including the car? Well, he would think about it later. Now, as the snow fell heavily, he would check in on sister and his kitty....