Creative Writing

[appaloosabeach]

Garner stopped a few feet this side of his Camaro, something didn't feel right. Looked left, looked right, the ugly, fuzzy green night vision goggle smoke seems to be clouding the feel crisp air, he's thinking ambush, should have put the goddamn top down, a Camaro convertible with the top up is like a hard on with no place to go.

[knoxharrington]

Fin, deeply moved by its sparkling facets of oxymoron and glittering points of utter non-relevance, had to take a moment of brush his teeth and update his grocery list while considering the long-range effects of the Irish potato famine on basmati prices in Sri Lanka.  He realized penetrating the soft gauzy coating of chain mail would take longer than he had expected, and began to weep for the children of Muriel and Frank Pelletier who had suffered so much in the....

[carol polk]

"...suffered so much" in the struggle for the foggy little island.  The Pelletiers often wondered why Leonard wasn't interested in Camaros more than revolution, but

[Kam]

then again, his affinity for cars was limited to the sound systems they carted around.  A good car was a stereo on wheels.  But the Camaro wasn't his style.  Once, as it idled in his drive Leonard leaned in, wondering why the top was up, and flicked on the radio,

cancel my subscription to the re-sur-rec-tion  ...
send my credentials to the house of det-en-tion ...

then flicked it off just as quickly, remembering the tape that was stuck within. 

[barton]

"Wake up, Bob" said Suzanne Pleshette. 

Newhart sat up in bed, trembling.  "Holy mother of fuck!  You would not believe the dream I just had!"

[appaloosabeach]

An 87 Camaro convertible, short block, top up, 20th anniversary slow moving pig. This car couldn't out run a Georgia County sheriff's six year old Crown Victoria, going down hill. But when Garner did a deal he stole a car and like his daddy always told him, when you steal, steal something with at least a smidgen of class, like a Lincoln, maybe a sixties El Camino, stay away from them German cars, theys trunks are full of karma.  Garner delivered the cash, slithered back towards the Camaro, packing the product in a briefcase. He'd left the engine running, quick getaways being one of his specialties. 357 in his left hand, he can hear the music, he left the damn cassette player running, the DOORS, 'I hear a very gentle sound'. Why do you do this in the dark, he thinks, the dark is not your friend. He pulls the goggles down around his neck, taps on the left rear fender with the gun barrel, no reponse. Behind the wheel, zero to sixty in about a week, on ramp to the interstate, checks the mirror, nothing but black, no trailing headlights. Freeway sign says SANTA FE is 112 miles up the road. I got to dump this slow moving bitch of a car, he thinks, maybe I can find me a Lexus. It's a warm night, he slows to about twenty-five, lowers the top, he can smell orange blossoms, top down, back to 85 mph cruising speed, the doors, 'turn out the lights, turn out the lights'.

[knoxharrington]

Then Morrison is screaming, "Break on through to the other side!" and the car hits 95.  A minor alignment problem on the front passenger side wheel begins to reveal itself as a vibration -- the steering wheel feels like an electric dildo set on HIGH -- then there's a sharp "chunk!" and the lower control arm snaps.  Metal fatigue.  The car swerves and heads straight for

[desdemona222b]

a sludge pit in Frau Weiner's front yard.

[appaloosabeach]

Frau Weiner was pissed. She had just spent eight thosand dollars landscaping her front yard and now a goddamn Camaro convertible has plowed its way from her mailbox to her kitchen window, screwing the lawn, trashing the azelas, wrecking the japaneese maples and crushing the big blue hydrangea, a gift from the mayor, a former lover, mayor of San Jaun or Santa Cruz, Frau Weiner couldn't remember at the moment but she was pissed. She slept naked so she grabbed a soft blue bathrobe, picked up the flashlight, cocked the twelve guage and headed outside. Garner was pulling himself out through the driver's side window when Frau laid the shot gun barrel on his shoulder, just behind his right ear, "Who the hell do you think you are?" she shouted. "You wrecked my front yard!" From the ground Garner looked at the woman, not a bad vision, Frau had neglected to tie the bathrobe closed. "I can see your boobs," he says softly, pointing. "What?" Frau is surprised by the response. She looks down, being modest. Garner shoots her between the eyes, the hollow point 357 splatters brains all over the kitchen window. He pulls himself up, good luck, he's thinking, no bones broken. In the driveway he spots Frau's car, a Lexus. More good luck, a f&&kin Lexus. Takes ten minutes to find the keys, he steals a bowl of chicken salad from the frig, 'thinking that dumb witch won't be hungry any time soon. Ten minutes later he's sixty miles from SANTA FE, the Lexus LS rolling down the interstate at 85, the CD player is a problem, nothing but Harry Connick jr.

[kitinkaboodle]

{      LOL }

[appaloosabeach]

Garner points the 357 at the cd player, point blank range, Harry Connick must die he thinks, the first time ever I saw your face over and over and over, jesus, am I the only serial killer on the road that hates mall music. The gun shot is much louder than Garner expected, the cd player doesn't smoke, doesn't whisper, last words something about New Orleans. The bullet cruises thru the stereo, thru the firewall, into the power steering pump and a radiator hose. We be happy now but there be a shit storm brewing down the road. I just gut shot a cd player, Garner thinks, I need some time off. The  Lexus is nice but  what I really need is a big frigin ford truck. He pulls into a rest stop, radiator blowing a blue smokey mist, a half dozen truck drivers want to help, Garner picks the dumbest.

[carol polk]

Who isn't so dumb as not to remind him that it's the singer, not the song, or perhaps the other way around, but in any event don't put Roberta and Harry in the same place at the same time, after which he ... 

[appaloosabeach]

Welcome to the mall, have a nice day. Sadly, Harry and Roberta, thru no fault of their own, are singing at the same place at the same time, "and it will last till the end of time, my love." But I digress, Garner has his eyes on an F-450 pulling a fifth wheel trailer loaded with a backhoe. The driver, a guy named Roy, from some little dirt water town in Kansas, is walking back to the steaming Lexus with his tool box.

[desdemona222b]

Who isn't so dumb as not to remind him that it's the singer, not the song, or perhaps the other way around, but in any event don't put Roberta and Harry in the same place at the same time, after which he ... 

took an envelope out of his pocket he had taken out of Frau Weiner's mailbox just for kicks.  ACHTUNG! it said, indicating that...

[knoxharrington]

...there was a contest and that "You may alread be a Weiner!!"