GuNNhead

“Look at this crazy car. C’mon, look at it! This shit’s crazy.”
“It certainly is a buzz-worthy thing.”
“Whatever, I don’t think you ‘get’ it. Let’s go for a drive.”
“It really doesn’t look all too safe.”
“Relax! Let’s go somewhere, some, crazy, hellish drive.”
“Well, okay, but only because I’ve got a feelin’ that today is a lucky day.”

They hop in the car, and go barrelling down the dirt road, dust, sand, and rocks flying behind them, kicked up from the tires. Soon, it’s night time, and the car is surrounded on this road by overhanging trees. Decrepit branches reach out for them in the darkness. Coming across a small, secluded radio station, they stop in and ask for information on the surrounding area. The only person working at the time is the DJ. Between songs, he comes to the front desk.

“I like ya, but make it quick.”
“Heya, we just wanna know where the action is tonight.”
“Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place then, because you are where the action is.”
“What even the fuck does that mean?”
“There’s a bar a few miles down the road, and I hear somethin’ nuts is goin’ on tonight, I myself am headin’ there after my show. Time’s up, gotta go!”

The two head out of the station and back to that crazy car, and drive to the bar. It’s a run down sort of place, surrounded by pickup trucks and semis; real foreboding, like an old log cabin that was turned into a restaurant in the 60s, then devolved into a biker bar in the 80s, and finally came to rest in this present time, as some crazy hellish amalgamation of enjoyment and danger.

“This place is perfect.”
“Still not lookin’ safe, man.”
“Feel the extreeme power of young years on your side.”
“What?”
“Ugh, I’m going in.”

Inside of the bar, hushed whispers are barely audible.
“Anyone knows ‘em?”
“I don’t like ‘em, that much I know.”
The two didn’t catch much of the mumbles over the music, but there was a group of crazy, hellish looking group looking at them from the corner of the bar, and the two sure caught it when they said,
“Some day you may lose them all.”
“Work for your specialty”

Pausing for a moment,
“I won’t go.”
“To the bar?”
“To the bar, not gunna do it, let’s go, those guys are gunna beat us up and kill us and all sorts of crazy hellish shit I don’t even wanna deal with.”
“Don’t rely on luck in such important question as your combativity!”

Approaching the bar, they notice that bartender is eyeing them as well.
“Dos cervezas por favor, señor.”
“Yeah, sure.”
As the two beers arri

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The 18-Wheeler pulls out onto the highway, and off into the sunset; the crazy car highly visible in the scorched cargo trailer, molten metal having left a giant hole.

“Come on, let’s go this way.”
“Why would we go this way, and not that way?”
“Why would we go this way? Why, well, because there’s life down this way, a chance at a new life, the chance to live, and to be free. And that way, why would we not go that way? Because… there’s only death down that way.”

This entry was posted on September 23, 2009 at 3:33 am and is filed under Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.