Post by ophelia on Nov 18, 2009 0:25:48 GMT -5
“Well, I’d say that you’re just looking at some minor repairs.”
“Minor repairs? Like, what are we talking here? A new air-freshner?”
The engine gave a strangled wheeze and burst into flame, shattering the windshield and flattening all four tires. A scalding wall of exhaust poured from under the hood, whipping out to roar past them into the desert. Rubber bubbling. Paint blistering. Sour as low tide. Large flakes of rust dropped off into the sand like cockroaches.
“Just…a little body work…”
They both were quiet for a long moment. Watching the blue flames eat through the roof of the chevy. It both mesmerizing and repulsive how closely the car resembled an egg in a frying pan and they could not look away. Wanted to, as desperately as anyone who has ever lusted after the clean chrome lines of the dulcet 1955 Apache, but could not. They remained stock still and staring as the metal congealed in a puddle of hot grease. As arteries of transmission fluid popped and sizzled when the rivets in the frame contracted. Sweating beads of caramelized iodine, soft and candy colored as the make and model.
Poor beautiful baby! Heaven was no place for the young; the innocent! Mechanic and merman wrapped their arms around one another, hiccuping thickly into the silence. The crackle of leather and glass radiated a heat that was nearly mirage. Vaporizing their tears.
“...Just a few repairs....” They both muttered together.
“...Just a few repairs...”
The rear door fell off it’s hinges and smashed. Her corpse- the corpse of The Divine Lady Apache steamed, divinely, into the afterlife.
“I’m stuck here aren’t I?” mumbled Othello into the mechanic’s shoulder.
“I’m so sorry buddy. I’m so sorry. Why God?! Why?! She was so young!”
“You can let go of me now.”
“Oh, right.”
They broke apart awkwardly and brushed themselves off. (A man went to some dark places after the death of his car.)
“Well then. Just sit tight, and I’ll try to have you fixed up as soon as I can.” The mechanic clapped Othello hard clap on the shoulder and disappeared over the crest of the hill, scrambling up between the tire tracks until he was only a sharp silhouette in the distance. The red of his overalls bobbed dimmer and dimmer, vanishing surreptitiously in a haze of brittle shade. The gas station was a damn long walk away. Over baked earth as hard and smooth as glass and rattling bone white wind.
“HOW SOON IS SOON!?” Othello called after him. But the sun swallowed his reply and spit it back out as something unrecognizable and alone.
“Minor repairs? Like, what are we talking here? A new air-freshner?”
The engine gave a strangled wheeze and burst into flame, shattering the windshield and flattening all four tires. A scalding wall of exhaust poured from under the hood, whipping out to roar past them into the desert. Rubber bubbling. Paint blistering. Sour as low tide. Large flakes of rust dropped off into the sand like cockroaches.
“Just…a little body work…”
They both were quiet for a long moment. Watching the blue flames eat through the roof of the chevy. It both mesmerizing and repulsive how closely the car resembled an egg in a frying pan and they could not look away. Wanted to, as desperately as anyone who has ever lusted after the clean chrome lines of the dulcet 1955 Apache, but could not. They remained stock still and staring as the metal congealed in a puddle of hot grease. As arteries of transmission fluid popped and sizzled when the rivets in the frame contracted. Sweating beads of caramelized iodine, soft and candy colored as the make and model.
Poor beautiful baby! Heaven was no place for the young; the innocent! Mechanic and merman wrapped their arms around one another, hiccuping thickly into the silence. The crackle of leather and glass radiated a heat that was nearly mirage. Vaporizing their tears.
“...Just a few repairs....” They both muttered together.
“...Just a few repairs...”
The rear door fell off it’s hinges and smashed. Her corpse- the corpse of The Divine Lady Apache steamed, divinely, into the afterlife.
“I’m stuck here aren’t I?” mumbled Othello into the mechanic’s shoulder.
“I’m so sorry buddy. I’m so sorry. Why God?! Why?! She was so young!”
“You can let go of me now.”
“Oh, right.”
They broke apart awkwardly and brushed themselves off. (A man went to some dark places after the death of his car.)
“Well then. Just sit tight, and I’ll try to have you fixed up as soon as I can.” The mechanic clapped Othello hard clap on the shoulder and disappeared over the crest of the hill, scrambling up between the tire tracks until he was only a sharp silhouette in the distance. The red of his overalls bobbed dimmer and dimmer, vanishing surreptitiously in a haze of brittle shade. The gas station was a damn long walk away. Over baked earth as hard and smooth as glass and rattling bone white wind.
“HOW SOON IS SOON!?” Othello called after him. But the sun swallowed his reply and spit it back out as something unrecognizable and alone.
I did post in shades of grey if anyone even remembers that lmao