Egad

[textualdeviance]

ACT ONE:

Enter our heroine. A little tired from staying up too late, she's nonetheless perky and raring to go, excited that this is her last day of class before a week's break for the holiday. She has a short issue to put out tonight, so she's all packed up, planning to head home right after production, so she and her dashing husband can finally see each other for more than 48 hours.

Fresh out of her first class and with a shiny new parking ticket, our heroine realizes she has to park in the student lot for the second half of the day. Undaunted, she drives downtown, dropping off the payment for her last parking ticket on the way, and picks up a yummy but messy lunch at Avenue Bread. She returns to campus, and sits in the parking lot, eating said lunch in her car and playing solitaire on her cell phone. Because it's cold and hailing, our heroine idles her car from time to time to run the heater.

Suddenly, in the midst of one of these idles, the car sputters out.

Heroine (annoyed): WTF?

She turns the key off, thinking that perhaps she just hadn't given it enough gas to keep it idling. She tries to start it.

Nothing.

Heroine (more annoyed): Ah, shit.

It's 15 minutes to class time, so our heroine has no choice but to trot off to class, braving hail and high water. Perhaps, she thinks, I just flooded it. It did smell a little like gas, so that's probably it. I'll just leave it alone for a few hours and try again.

ACT TWO

As things are already hopping in the newsroom when class finishes, our heroine decides to buckle down and start work a little early. She comes to a stopping point about when dinner arrives. Having had such a luscious lunch from Avenue Bread earlier, she's not terribly hungry just yet, so she figures she'll take a moment to go run out to her car and maybe move it back to the other lot, since it's nearing the legal hour to be able to do so.

The car still doesn't start.

Heroine (resigned): Thank goodness I have this fabulous smart phone and a membership with AAA.

(Ok, so our heroine really doesn't speak out loud like that, but she did think it.)

AAA, unfortunately, is running two hours behind schedule. So she leaves orders for the driver to pick her up at the building, and trudges back, grousing the whole way about the cold wind and how she left her jacket in the car. Upon her arrival, since it's been half an hour and the newsroom staff are usually ravenous, there is nothing left of dinner but a few lonely olive slices. Our heroine spends her last couple of dollars on pretzels and a beverage from the vending machine, and settles in for two hours of relatively pleasant editing work.

ACT THREE

The tow driver finally decides to show up around 9p, 2 1/2 hours after the initial call. This should have been our heroine's first clue that something was amiss. Excusing herself from her journalistic duties, she heads off to go deal with the comatose car.

The tow driver doesn't actually poke around on the car. This is unusual, as most AAA drivers will at least do the courtesy of poking their heads under the hood to see if anything obvious is wrong, like a loose plug wire. This should have been clue #2. But, having no other choice, our heroine grits her teeth and bears it. Heart breaking, she watches her darling baby get pulled up onto the flatbed--off to get needed surgery at the dealership.

The driver makes small talk, as is customary in these situations. He asks for directions, since he's apparently from back East somewhere and doesn't know the area. He pulls up in front of the dealership. And stops.

Heroine (confused): Why are we stopping here?

Tow Driver (lunkishly): Oh, they close off the lots after hours, so I usually just dump the cars on the street in front.

Heroine (looking around, realizing that said street is actually a busy thoroughfare, and not a side street with parking): Are you sure? Isn't there someplace closer to the service entrance?

Tow Driver (halfway out of truck already): Yeah, I've done this several times. The police never seem to mind.

Our heroine sits there in the cab of the tow truck, nervously looking back as the driver unloads her car in the middle of the street. Finally, she gathers her things and watches the driver leave. She looks around, thinking that this is the world's worst parking job, and hoping the car is still there and in one piece by the time the dealership opens in the morning. She trudges the block and a half over to the service lot (because naturally, the tow driver left the car in front of the sales lot--a completely different building) and reluctantly fills out the key drop envelope and shoves it in the slot. She calls her dashing husband, grumbling that she won't be seeing him tonight as planned.

She bums a ride from a fellow editor back to the newsroom--because of course, there is still work to be done--and finishes her duties.

ACT FOUR

Toward the end of the night, our heroine's very cool smart phone rings. Why, it's our heroine's dashing husband!

Dashing Husband (giggling): So, the police just called me, asking why your car is parked in the middle of the street. I told them to call AAA.

Heroine (annoyed, but can't help but laugh): I knew that stupid fuck had no idea what he was doing.

Five minutes later, our heroine gets another call--from AAA, confirming the location of the car. Seems the city police have contacted them, and are rather cranky.

Five minutes after that, another call. This time, it's from the tow driver. Seems he's been tapped to remove the vehicle from its present location. Only he doesn't have the keys. And neither, of course, does our heroine, since the keys are now safely in the drop box inside the locked dealership.

Tow Driver (stupidly whining, as if it's someone else's fault): Well, I'm going to have to put the car on dollies, now, since we can't pull it onto the bed.

Heroine (barely stifling giggles): Yep. Guess so.

Our heroine bums another ride back to her lonely apartment, where she suddenly realizes she has yet to have dinner. Unfortunately there's little in the house (why buy groceries when you'll be gone all week?) besides a crusty bottle of ketchup and a few slices of cheese that should've been thrown out after the power outage. She does manage to find a package of ramen, and settles down with the steaming bowl, wondering idly exactly what chemical produces that glowy yellow color in the seasoning packet.

THE END

Tune in next episode when we find out whether our heroine's car is terminal or merely requires minor therapy, and coming up later, we see whether our heroine's misadventure manages to wind up in the cops box for the next issue of her newspaper...

Comments

[pixxelpuss.livejournal.com]

Sheesh. That's Dumb. And what IS it in Ramen flavouring that makes it that phosphorescent yellow?

[halophoenix.livejournal.com]

Yikes. I hope everything works out with your car!

(and might I add I adore your writing style? :D )