“Denny, what the Hell is this?” Alan demanded, pointing.
Denny shrugged. “Exactly what it looks like.”
“Denny, this is my car!”
“That I paid for.”
Alan groaned. “Your largess not withstanding, I'm the one who drives it. I'd prefer not to be mistaken for a racist.”
“Racist, smacist. Someone has to call it like it is. You've just got a thing for the pants suit.”
Considering a more than passing resemblance to Shirley, Alan was a little bit surprised that Denny didn't. Regardless...
“Denny, I don't care. Get that damn 'Trump for President' bumper sticker off of my car. Now!”