The Accident

Jake goes careening through the tree-lined streets with the headlights off.  Phil is in the passenger seat blowing big rings of a smoke from the cigar rolled fatty in his right hand out his mouth, while letting his head relax down into the mound of the velour pillowed seat behind him, eyes closed, envisioning the sun, bikini babes, computers with minds of their own and his the smell of his grandmas mac and cheese, served steaming from an iron casket.  Put that shit out, Jake turns to Phil with a quick of his head to the right before throwing his eyes back to the road.

They are coming from the beach where the cops had come too, to kick the kids out of their night time haunt to remove them from their loitering cars, to give them slips of yellow paper summoning them to appear in a court house, before a judge, with their parents in two.  That fate had yet to befall Jake and Phil, so quick were they to pull out of the dead end where the Jetties lived and breathed.

They are racing fast down the curved streets that they know like the back of their hands.  Past the Stepler’s white columned mansion set back far from the road.  Around the corner by the Tublor’s place, their kids toys, laundry and mucked up cars laid out in the front of their house for days, weeks or months now without change.  Over the bridge of the duck pond that freezes over in winter enough for neighborhood kids to go skating, but with care.

They roll into Firefly Lane near the meadow rich with the little buggers. They duck down low in their seats and feel the cop car roll past them, searching, creeping with the crack of the gravel underneath the tires.  Letting their breath out quiet-like, as if it could be heard outside the car or communicate to others that they were hiding inside.

You’re an idiot, says Jake.  Phil’s too gone to notice.  The two of them now thirsty and bored.  Slurpy please, says Phil before they about face and head towards the 7-11 on Route 75E across from the train station next to the Christian Mission’s Children’s Hope Day School for Kids K-12.

Advertisements

Tags:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: