OzzyShiraz

Normally, when I find bits and pieces, I try to come back to them, keep ´em going, no matter how mundane, just for the sake of closure. This, though...I have no idea where I was going with this. So, what with very little to do this uvvernoon, might as well toss it out there.

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Driving in the rain, driving, driving, the tires sounding wet-crackly ´round the bends, yellow sandy patches turned mud brown at the side of the road, the awkward halting thwack and slide of the windshield wipers squeaking the drops into a silver blur under pale autumn sky.

¨I´m glad you´re back, Jack¨, Rodney said assuringly, turning his head to add a nod, ¨It´s been boring around here.¨

New England countryside, quaint and glowing in the dusk drizzle, coasting along just right outside the windows, the winding old farm road so wise and handsome, glittering with all Nature´s polish.

¨It´s always boring around here,¨ Jack, jokingly, ¨Ha. Well, o´course not always...but not much changes.¨

¨Actually,¨ the car crested a tiny hill helping an old stone house stay up, ¨A lot has changed. Troudeaut lives with his girlfriend out here somewhere, Heywood has a kid, Zordak moved to Connecticut.¨

¨Aaaaah,¨ Jack noticed the half-moon, ¨That´s nothing changing. Same old.¨

¨Downtown has changed a lot, too,¨ Rodney nodded as one who knows a secret, ¨You´ll see. Lotta drugs now.¨

¨Drugs.¨

¨Meth. Crack,¨ and incredulous look from Jack and Rodney´s eyes widened with sincerity, ¨I´m serious!¨ he said with a humourless chuckle, ¨You´ll see. They hang out downtown all over the place.¨

Smoke in the car, the window buzzing down quickly and cool moisture breezes start softcover pages aflutter.

¨Ah,¨ Jack said slowly, ¨They can´t all be doing crack or selling meth or they´d be arrested.¨

Rodney blinked as twilight settled in, reached into a tray to tap out his steel pipe. He instinctively began to guide the car home as the skies began to darken and the droplets became drops, the light patter of rain becoming more of a percussive roll. Exhaling, he held his hand and the pipe aloft, ¨I don´t know why they aren´t arrested...but they´re all on meth.¨

Jack burst out laughing. In a falsetto he said, ¨It´s dese damn kids dese days! They´re all on drugs!¨ he guffawed, ¨And you should here the music they listen to!¨

Into the forest, the fields dropping somehow deeper into Earth already low, leaves falling bright colours onto the windshield with big barky drops of rain and moonlight.

¨Ya,¨ Rodney exhaled again, a big blue swirling cloud in the car, ¨but we...we weren´t like this. What did we do? We had a few beers a couple times...you did it a lot...we didn´t get strung out on smack and start gangs and...shooting.¨

¨Shooting.¨

¨Ya!¨ Rodney offered the pipe to his friend, nodding emphatically, ¨There´s been shootings. Tellin´ you!¨

¨Murders.¨

¨I don´t know about that,¨ he shrugged, ¨But there´s been gunfire.¨

Jack shook his head and clicked his tongue. He was torn wether to comment on the inevitability of such things, or what a shame it was. He decided to change the subject.

¨What about Holly?¨

Rodney blew air through his lips and buzzed the window shut, ¨Holly? Forget it. Practically married. He´s a good kid.¨

¨He´s a sissy.¨

Headlights slicing rain and night, twin phantoms through crystal cascades into the trees and shadows, the damp old farmer´s walls, curves and bends and dips and rises of the road, dirt now, adding deep, sticky tones to the thrum of wheels spinning below.

Rodney looked at Jack somewhat surprised, ¨Do you know him?¨

The car pulled to a ´T´ in the road, and Jack stared out ahead at the trunks of wet maples and said, ¨No, never met ´im. But he´s a sissy...and I´ll beat his ass.¨

Coughing confused laughter, Rodney asked, ¨What? Are you serious?¨

Jack shrugged, ¨Nah. Not really. It´s been years.¨

¨Ya...¨ Rodney tapped the steering wheel a few times with both hands and let out a low, fading whistle, ¨Know what?¨

Jack looked at him, ¨What?¨

¨I have no...idea...where we are.¨

¨Eh?¨

¨Really. I´ve never seen this place before. This little intersection. No signs, two dirt roads...I´ve been driving these roads for ten years. I´m dumbfounded.¨

The erratic beat of drops falling from the forest canopy onto the tight-pulled drum of the sunroof.

¨Are you saying,¨ Jack asked blandly, ¨That we´re lost?¨

¨No!¨ Rodney laughed, ¨We can´t get lost out here. I guess I just never noticed this intersection before.¨

He turned the car right.

PSFoster

Hey, keep working on this! Sounds like the start of a Stephen King book.

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I'm too blessed to be stressed and too anointed to be disappointed.