Cruisin'

“Come on, baby. Come on. Just this one time, that’s all I ask. Come on. Come on! Damnit!” I turned the key one last time, for good measure. “Sonuvabitch.” I looked at my watch. “That’s just great. Ever fucking time, this godamnpieceofshit, stupid cheap ass, ripoff!” I slowly lowered my hands from the steering wheel. One of the neighbor kids was looking at me through the window. I listened to Smokey Robinson for a few more notes.

I was gonna have to burn some serious rubber to get there in time. “Don’t forget the ice cream. Right.” I can feel the sides of the carton loosening up. I catch a glimpse in the rearview as I climb out of the Reliant. Just about time to get a haircut. “Probably should have left earlier. Stupid fucking car.” I give it one more disgusted look and turn to go. All I can think about is the shit storm to come. “Why are you late this time? Got stuck in traffic? At work? On Mars? Blah blah blah.” That neighbor kid was watching me pace across the driveway. His face told me he heard ever word. His eyes told me he didn’t understand much of it. The gaping maw said he understood plenty.

“Ah, shit shit shit.” I was taking the word out for a spin. “Shit,shit,shit,shiiiiit.” I know I told her I wouldn’t be late. Not this time. Of course I understood how important this is. I know. I’ll be there. I can picture her face looking up at me, sweeping the hair out of her mouth. “I’ll pick you up, ok? It won’t be a problem, I’ll just swing by after work-“

“I’ll be there, alright? I say I’ll be there, and I will.” Whatever. There isn’t much I can do about it now. Just have to get to the bus stop “in time to see the god damn bus leave!” My hands are up in the air, ice cream running down the sleeve of my jacket as I squeeze the contents out the top. There’s a Neapolitan oil slick in my armpit.
“Shit.”