Billie Bob Taylor
Benedito continuously fiddled with the stereo of the Beatle with a frustrated groan. The air conditioning of the car barely worked which made him even grumpier since he was sweating slightly.
Even though we had dropped the roof of the car, he still had to tie his hair up into a bun so it would not stick to his neck. He also hated putting his hair up into a bun because it gave him a headache.
In my eyes it was like watching a rich boy have a complete meltdown and my continuous laughing only frustrated him more.
"Como devemos ouvir música?" he whined as he threw himself back in the chair that was by far too small for him. I had failed to put into consideration that the man's head sometimes reached the top of a door frame that he had to duck. Such a tiny car for him must have been hell. He was folded up that his knees almost touched his chest. (How are we supposed to listen to music?)
