The call came at 6:36 P.M. I had just settled down with some Outback Steakhouse takeout; Drover’s BBQ chicken & Ribs, Cococut Shrimp, a whole deep-fried onion blossom, and a six-pack of St. Pauli Girls.
I was surprised at the call as I was supposed to be on leave. Previous missions left me with conjunctivitis in my left eye, and a slightly swollen right testicle. It is with some small annoyance that I answered the call.
“Scylla here.”
“This is Julie, what are you doing?” Julie was Mrs. Scylla’s lethally dumb sixteen year old cousin.
“Eating dinner,” I replied.
“Do you know how to change a tire?” she asked.
“My specialty.”
“I’m stuck just off of exit 12. I don’t have a jack, and this weird car keeps driving by.”
“Where are you exactly?”
“Just off the off ramp on exit 12, going North.”
“A young girl like you knows to keep the doors locked, don’t get out of the car for anybody, and call the police if your’re accosted, right.”
“I think so.”
“I’m on my way.” I hung up.
Dammit, that interstate is a major corridor. Exit 12, isn’t a very good area, and she was all alone!
I went to the gun cabinet and loaded my Cassull .50 caliber 4 shot revolver, and strapped into the shoulder harness. I donned my comfy coveralls over the harness, grabbed my Maglite, and Scyll-phone and headed out the door to the Scyll-mobile, but not before stuffing the entire Onion blossom into my face and gazing longingly at the ribs which would surely be cold by the time I returned.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Scylla asked.
“No time to talk. Julie’s trapped on the Interstate with a flat tire, and I’ve got to act now to save her.”
“Your food’ll get cold.”
“Don’t touch it! I’ll be back.” I rushed out the door.
Down at the Garage of solitude, my sanctum Sanctorum, I considered. “Hmmm. Which of the Scylla mobile’s is most appropriate.” Decidng instantly, I leaped into the Sebring Convertible JXI Limited with the non-slip front wheel drive and six cd changer.
Atomic batteries to power.
Turbines to speed.
Cd Player to random.
I pressed the Scylla-button activating the garage door opener to the unsecret exit, and roared out to the interstate.
The six-cylinder unmodified by my own hands fuel-injected motor purred like an uncaged tiger as my adept hand guided the Sebring with the skill of an attuned lover down the dark back country roads.
Within a matter of minutes, I came upon the Interstate, merging like a blue chip stock into the heavy traffic.
I peeled off exit 12 with skill alacrity, and nuance and consulted the Heads up display (windshield,) for signs of Julie’s car.
Nothing.
Up and down the street off the exit I drove with nary a sign of the vanished vapid vixen.
I reached for the Scyll-phone.
Oops, I must ahve left it by the Onion blossom. How can they expect me to function at 100% with my injuries?
I pulled into Sheetz, and followed Eva Savealots advice, dialing down the center.
“You forgot your phone.” said Mrs. Scylla.
“Ha!” I replied. “That shows what you know. (Quickly changing the subject,) Has Julie called?”
“No, is she not there?”
“No.”
“Are you at the right exit?”
“I think I know where the right exit is? Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“You forgot your cell phone.”
“Ha!” I replied. “Just call Julie’s number and see where she is.”
“I don’t have the number.”
I thought quickly.
“You can use the caller ID on the cell phone,” I replied. “That shows you,” I said smartly. “It’s a good thing I left it behind.”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Yeah, I guess that was pretty smar… Wait a minute. If you had the phone you could check. Why’d you have to leave it behind?”
“To keep you in the loop as backup, of course.”
pause.
“Oh,” she replied, buying it. Then, “Did she call you on the cell phone?”
DRAT!
“ummm, no.”
“Then why don’t I check the caller ID on the regular phone. Why don’t you look again, and make sure you didn’t miss her. I’ll try and call her, and if you don’t find her call back in ten minutes.”
I thought a second. “An excellent plan. You have a remarkable penchant for…”
Click
I jumped back into the Scylla mobile and cruised up and down the street. No luck.
Fortunately my heightened Scylla intuition took over. What if she wasn’t off the exit as the dumb twit said, but had just passed it? MY GOD, she’d still be on the Interstate!
I deftly accelerated up the on ramp, and immediately beheld the distressed damsels decrepit Dodge Daytona in the dark shoulder.
I pulled in behind her, grabbing the Mag lite. Braving the oncoming taraffic I changed the mindless muffins tire succesfully. It had been shredded.
“How long were you driving on this thing?”
“I stopped when I smelled something burning.”
I attached the donut of a spare. Julie held the light while I worked.
"CAR!!!" Screamed the usually sullen and disinterested Julie. The flashlight pulled away suddenly as she ducked between the cars.
Not having that option, I dove headfirst over the trunk, as the onrushing vehicle screamed by… one whole lane and ten feet away.
“It looked big as it was coming,” she said shrugging.
“They always do. But then they shrink right afterwards. The only difference is the car doesn’t light up a cigarette afterwards. That must have confused you.”
A look of incomprehension crossed her face. It belonged there.
“No harm done,” I added. “Fortunately I wore my brown pants.”
The look intensified. I finished the job.
“Thanks,” she said.
“No problem,” I replied throwing her shredded tire into her trunk amongst the beer bottles, and various soiled detritus.
“That tire looks small,”
“Where were you going?”
“Visit Amy in Philadelphia.”
“That tire isn’t meant to go that far. You better turn around at the next exit and go home. Get it fixed tomorrow.”
“Ok, thanks again.”
“Bye.”
She merged into traffic, I followed. At the next exit I turned around. Julie’s car kept going, to Philly I presumed.
Back home the ribs were well chewed over. Apparently Mrs. Scylla was unable to resist. The remains of the onion blossom were soggy and greasy looking. The tails of the coconut shrimp were all that remained. The beer was cold, and even the girl on the label looked like a well-used cheap wench.
I fingered the Casull thoughtfully for a moment before unloading it and locking it up.
Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be a good guy.
