Ach Himmel! Why oh why do cars only ever break down when you have to be somewhere?
This morning I had myself a bit of automotive anguish whilst en-route to fulfilling a very urgent errand (namely returning my long overdue copy of Weird Science to the local video shop before incurring another hefty fine). With only minutes to spare I hopped in the trusty Frankenhearse, popped her into gear and headed for downtown Geneva before ‘Franz Ford Coppelstein’s Movie Emporium’ closed for the day.
Alas I had barely got to the end of the drive before the bonnet blew off in a cloud of steam and I found my self having a Basil Fawlty moment. When the steam cleared away, I took a look at the engine only to find that Igor, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to make a few modifications to the engine.*
That’s the last time I’ll be letting that useless lump watch ‘Pimp My Ride’ I tell you!
Still, a measly 2 euro late fee seems positively pawltry compared to the impending armageddon faced by the mysterious driver in Jennily and Kathykins apocalyptic Frankenstory…
The black Buick refused to start. The driver tried everything, and short of getting out a crowbar and going to town on it – which, while cathartic, wouldn’t be particularly productive – there wasn’t anything else that could be done by sitting on their asses. It was time for action, and He was the man for the job. Vance knew that if they didn’t defuse the bomb, the world as they knew it would be little more than a featureless crater because of the dark purple liquid bubbling, nay, boiling within. There was a reason why no animals approached, and there was a saying that even the Sun never set upon this place of wonders and candy. Vance turned to his life-partner, and as he saw her he saw his future destroyed, tainted by the touch of atomic warfare, and he knew that it was time.
(see the original story here)
But just who is this Vance, what strange powers does he posses and what secrets does the mysterious black Buick hold? Maybe the answer lies in Megan and Joe’s tale where a rather surprising passenger is lurking in the trunk…
God was sitting at the bar one day, with his big hat taking up the two stools to his right. It was a hat that looked just like the Man in Yellow’s from Curious George, only bigger. Although, from inside the trunk of a Buick, everything seems bigger. Could be the slow leak of the gas tank, could be the concussion. After two days, I’m not quite sure which it is. I’m just glad we’re out of vegas. God didn’t like Vegas very much. Too many bright lights and loud sounds for him to feel relaxed. Not that Seattle would be any better. Well, maybe the rain would be relaxing. He just wished the world would leave him alone. I’m tired of being the hero anyway. You see things clearly when you’re about to be buried in the dessert. I spent all my life saving people and now, nobody left to pull my sorry ass outta the sands. Some hero…
(see the original story here)
They never taught us that bit in Sunday school!
Anyway, better run as I can smell the scent of burning carburettors and I can hear Xzibit’s dulcet tones coming from the region of the telly.
“Igor, I thought I said you were never to watch that show again…”
Hi- octane hugs,
*photo by Helena 40.proof