Road 13 Switzerland: Lift Off

By Rabies (Ra BEE us)

I awoke, tasting packing peanuts and wood.  Excelsior? my mind thought.  My legs were sticking up in the air.  I rocked gently, left and right and left and then the box that I was sleeping in fell over.  Much like a hermit crab vacating a Coke can, I wiggled myself out of the box and stood, wiping excelsior from my mouth.  I licked the roof of my mouth.  By that count, I’d been out for sixty, maybe seventy minutes.

     The aisles of the dark toy store were empty as I ambled toward the cash register.  Of course, I was the cashier, so I had no purchases in mind.  Keys, I needed keys to escape this dark plastic place.  The only light came from the red EXIT sign, like an omen.  I’m trying, you bastard, I shot this thought at the sign, but it didn’t even flicker.  Keys stuck out of the top of the register.  I had left the register locked.  Good for me  and good for Kay-Bee.  I pulled the keys out and saw the note: 

      Six AM.  Good Chrysler, that’s--I looked at my watch.  It was nine PM.  What day is this? Six AM.  I’d have to remember that.  (David’s a femiphobe; he doesn’t just hate me—he hates all girls.)  I crumpled the note, then reconsidered.  I uncrumpled it and pressed it onto the counter.  I left a candy cane sitting on top of it.  Eat that, you bastard ass.

     The door was locked, so it took me a few minutes to figure out how that worked, but eventually, I exited, flipping off that EXIT sign.  That time, it flickered, along with everything else inside my head.  Whoa, I said, feeling like Keanu Reeves.  I stumbled down the sidewalk, wondering what else I’d eaten along with those pills.  Hiphuggers had this effect on you--as soon as you swallowed one, you felt like your skin was made in some Korean sweat shop and it didn’t fit right.  Not to small, not too loose, but tight around the middle and baggy everywhere else.  Like an hourglass. 

     My cell went off.  I said, “Annyong?”  No answer.  “Goddamn it, am I dreaming this?”  I wondered aloud into my cell.

     “Kerry?  That you?”  Hey!  It was Chadwick!

     “Chadwick!  It’s Chadwick!”  I screamed into the phone, looking at it like some kind of hypno-toad.  It buzzed at me.  I realized Chad was speaking.

     “ . . . over and steal it!  Ha.  I’ve got some--tee hee hee--I’ve got some and you want some and with any luck, we could be gone by morning.  Beachward, ho!”

     “Beachward?  Is that even a word, Chadley?”

     “Sure.  You coming over?”

     “Let me stop by the house first.  I need a drink of something cool and not made of wood.”

     “Diggity.”  Chaddington hung up on me.

     I weaved my way around the hydrants and telephone poles, stopping for a moment at a stop sign.  It was sad, playing violin.  I considered dancing with it or for it, but it was probably straight.  No one but dykes appreciate dancing dykes.  I gave it a word or two of advice, mentioning that it could be worse--you could be a stop sign in North Korea.  “Later!”  I hoped he’d be alright, poor guy.  Some yield sign had probably broken his heart.

     I lived only two blocks from K-B, so when I smelled my grass, I knew I was home.  I stopped in front of the Strom.

     Let me explain--the Strom (full name:  Ego Strom) was the bestest of cars there was.  He was black, barely rusted, with a pink pinstripe on either side of him.  The dash was cracked, because--well, that’s the way I got him.  And who am I to judge?  I wanted to sit in him and turn on the radio.  I wanted to feel him alive, heart beating.  See, the Strom had only two 30 cm speakers in the hatch, so all I could hear was an occasional thump or boom.  When I put on a song, he’d boom BOOM, boom BOOM, boom BOOM, and the Strom lived for me.  But I had promised Chadrich. 

     I left the Strom and went inside my house, the door already open.  I didn’t need keys to get into my house.  It knew when I came home.  Standing defensively in my kitchen, I drank so much orange juice that it ran down the front of my K-B blouse.  I took it off and threw it on the floor in the dining room, among the other articles of clothing.  Someone may have been sleeping in there.  I grabbed a blue ringer that said "I Y Fucking Bees,” giggling as I put it on.

     I checked my purse--when did I get my purse?  Huh.  Well, I checked it and found a whole bottle of hiphuggers.  Hourglass pills.  Well, maybe two- or three-hourglass.  I walked out the front door and someone from behind me yelled, “Leave it!”  I left it.

     My cell--it had been in my purse, so I must’ve been wearing it as I slept in my box.  I called Chadwick.  “Chadina, you can come get me now.”  I hung up before he could say anything.  He didn’t try calling back. 

     I opened the Strom and sat down.  I let my seat back and looked through the spider-webbed windshield, wondering when spiders had time to make spider-webs in my windshield when there were so many mosquitos out there right now.  Maybe spiders didn’t like skeeters. Oh, well. The keys dangled from the ignition switch, so I turned them.  The Strom came to life, purring at my feet.  I hit the radio and reclined the seat.  With my eyes closed, I dreamed I was in the womb.  Boom, BOOM.  Boom, BOOM.  All around me, a pink wall pushed and loved me.  It loved every part of me, and I loved every part of it.  I was alive, because it was alive. 

     Dr. Chad delivered me from the Strom’s womb.  He opened the dilated door, and I saw a light.  Dr. Chad was wearing a face mask.  He pulled me out, naked and dripping with MomJuice.  I opened my eyes and cried out for the first time.

     The doctor asked, “What the hell are you doing?”  I looked at Chad.  Oh.  Chadwina.  His upturned nose, gray eyes, anime-green hair.  “Here, eat this.”  He handed me a busterbrown.  I obeyed. 

     “Where’s your car?”  I asked, looking at the purple monster in the road.

     “A telephone pole whilst I was driving on 32.  So I stole my brother’s car.  Come on.  We’re going to the beach.”

     With no further questions asked and no further answers given, we jumped into the purple thing--a Probe, it called itself.  I couldn’t accept any vehicle that blindly took the name given to it by the Man.  I made up my mind to try to convert the poor thing.

     “What beach?”  My previous statement about questions and answers no longer applied.  My eyes felt itchy.  Busterbrowns ... tee-hee-hee.

     “The one near water, Kerry.”  Chaddo pointed.  The headlights showed the road before us.  We were the only two, Bonnie and Clyde, Beavis and Butthead, Amos and Andy, Raoul Duke and his attorney, Sheos and Rabies, Batman and Robin, Jesus and Judas, Peanut Butter and Jelly, Chadwick and Kerry.  Chad revved the engine, and I stuck my arm out the window, palm down.  Prepare for lift-off.

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END

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