January 2nd, 2007 - Ferris was minding his own business on a chilly night in January walking home from a nearby coffee shop. While nonchalantly checking vending machines for forgotten coins, he was mowed down mercilessly by Lobsang and Blonde on a joyride in a stolen purple Hummer.
Blonde slams on the brakes while Lobbers jumped out and checked their latest victim for point worth. “No good,” he called out to his maniacal companion in the driver’s seat, “He’s still moving a little.” As Blonde put the dented death machine into reverse, Ferris moaned and hobbled to his feet.
“What the fuck…” he burbled. Lob put his hands up and slowly stepped back, eyeing the approaching reverse lights of the Hummer. “Just take it easy pal, we’ll get you to a hospital. Don’t move, my buddy is bringing the truck back and we’ll give you a ride.” He took another step back just as the Blonde floored it, having lined up her target. Her twisted smile grew as she pressed harder on the gas pedal.
“Shit!” Ferris cried and reflexively backpedaled out of the way. The truck slammed into the light pole previously hidden by his shadow. As luck would have it, it stayed rooted in the concrete.
Blonde threw open her door and leaped at her missed opportunity. “You punkass bitch! Light poles subtract points! I was ahead by 3 points and the game’s almost over. You’re dead meat, Dance Boy.” She scrabbled at his face while he desperately tried to stave of this lunatic’s unprovoked attack and tirade of oral filth. She grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head into the light pole. Ferris crumpled to the pavement.
“Lobsang,” she called sweetly, “Won’t you be a dear and put this hunk of flesh in the back seat? I’ve got a special dance of my own I want to do with him.”
“With pleasure, m’lady,” he responded, bowing gracefully. He picked up her object of contempt roughly by the back of his jacket, flung open the back door and heaved the inert load onto the back seat single handedly. Ferris groaned audibly.
“Whaaaa…” he managed to mumble as Lobsang jumped into the passenger seat and slammed his door. “Don’t worry, laddie,” he called over his shoulder, “Blonde here doesn’t like to lose. She’ll make right by you. Just wait and see what kind of tricks she can do with a hedgetrimmer and a sack of rabid badgers.”
“Bajjjjjerrrrzzzzzz…?” Ferris’s pounding head couldn’t make sense of the chatter between his two assailants. What the hell was going on? He thought about his two dogs, six cats, parrot, and 26 tropical fish that were waiting for him at his flat. How long would the cats starve before they start to eye the fish? How long before Sasha (the parrot) started attacking her bars and tearing herself up trying to escape? He groaned again and tried to shift his weight to his right side. When he did, his hand touched a cylinder of smooth metal. He slowly followed the shaft until he feld a curious shape at the end. His foggy mind identified the mystery object after sorting through various mental pictures. A telescope!
Ferris cracked open his eyes enough to look at the rear view mirror. The reflection showed the mad woman, Blonde he thought he had heard her named, her eyes intently on the road. He slowly put both hands on the telescope and extended it to it’s full length. He tensed and sat bolt upright, telescope held by both hands at his left like a baseball bat.
He swung hard, just like he was trying for a homer on his Saturday league days. The fat end of his makeshift weapon came round and met Lobsang’s skull just above the bridge of his nose. The tube crumpled, and the lens shattered into his skull. Lobsang slumped against his door, not uttering a sound.
Blonde immediately swerved and hit the brakes. Ferris pulled back the telescope, now broken down to it’s smallest section. He turned it so the eyepiece pointed forward and pressed it to the base of her neck, just to the left where she couldn’t see it in the mirror.
“Keep going,” he commanded. “You shoulda frisked me first. Didn’t think a guy like me would be packing, did you?” Blonde stuttered, but complied by moving her foot to the gas pedal and stepping down lightly.
Ferris knew this road fairly well. He’d taken it when going hiking many times. His destination lay just a scant two miles ahead.
Blonde looked up in the rear view mirror. “Where are we headed?” she asked nervously. “Eyes straight, wacko. Just keep going straight down this road.” She returned her eyes to the asphalt lit by the headlights. They rode in silence for the next 90 seconds.
“Speed up,” Ferris said, twisting the barrel into her neck. Blonde pressed down on the pedal, grunting at the pressure on her spine. “What’re you going to do?” Blonde asked hesitantly. Ferris paused for another few seconds as they approached a tight left curve then yelled loudly “Punch it!” and pushed forward with the broken telescope end.
The driver insticively pushed the pedal all the way down. A guard rail sprang out of the darkness at them as the vehicle raced forward. Ferris grabbed a handful of blonde hair and pulled it hard down and to the right, dropped the telescope and unlatched his door. Blonde screamed as she unwillingly followed her hair towards the console between the front seats. She gripped the steering wheel hard and the vehicle’s right tires left the ground as she spun the wheel clockwise. The engine raced.
Ferris was already rolling in the soft shoulder dirt when the Hummer crashed into the rail. It sailed over the edge and silently spun on it’s left side in midair. It decapitated the first pine tree it struck and the sound of splintering wood filled the night’s silence. The sharp crack of more trees losing whole branches followed swiftly. Ferris rolled up to rest at the short posts holding the twisted guard rail in place. He pulled himself up.
“I’m gonna save the last dance for you, ya loser!” he hollered after the vanishing purple Hummer. It had hit the ground and bounced several times at this point. The thrashing grew quieter, then a loud sound of crunching metal as it smashed into a large boulder.
The resultant explosion put an exclamation point on Ferris’s tormented adventure. His face was pale as the half moon shone through the clouds, occassionaly striped with orange as the light from the fire peeked through the trees.
He turned towards home. A few feet from the guard rail he stopped and looked at the dirt on the road’s shoulder. There lay his fake gun, the white tube of the broken telescope. He picked it up and turned to throw it. He paused and turned back to the ground. With the eyepiece of the telescope he scratched “100 POINTS” into the dirt.
He tucked the telescope into his jacket and limped away.
Written on a dare from one of the victims. Thhhpppbbt!
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