A desperate, middle-aged man negotiates with Great Zoltan,
King of the Gypsies, who would rather have gold
(or a couple hours alone with the bashful young woman)
than accept "this hideous paper you people call money!"
He trades his watch for a rusting, battered Chevy Impala.
Later, he argues with his whiny new bride, and his son,
Lacking a key, he takes a crow-bar to pop open the trunk.
Fretfully, he searches for the few promised molotov cocktails,
There are days nobody gets a break.