Wednesday, October 25, 2017

MR. MALDARK: RUBBER, PAGE 3

Maldark: i hope you got your worth in eyeful. you guys caused a vent fire in the bathroom your stares were intensing. my body aches all over and that shower didn't help. next time i charge every time one of your men masturbates to me. put it on my account.

Intendo: standard procedure, sir. gotta make sure you're not packing.

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at the outside of the driving school lies ten miles of bad road. three feet of winding road. the road course is designed to be challenging but fair. the turns are a bit exaggerated but then again you don't see many large oak trees in the middle of intersections. the lines are painted with yellow paint from the '70s that is fading but still visible cos it's still yellow. there is one streetlight which is broken, very realistic conditions. there is one big white arrow on the course which points directly to the tree. a flurry of knocked-over orange cones litter the only path home.

Kelechi flexes her formidable bicep muscle, redirecting the sun's rays into the eyes of the class.

Kelechi: WELCOME TO P.E.! oooooh, i sound like Mr. Maldark! come on, students, let's do this for Teach. Mr. Maldark has been overexerting himself for what seems like weeks. he'll be back but it may be too late. let's continue the tradition without him. let's bring the project he started to fruition. how hard can it be to build a competition-ready F1 car that will win a race and not blow up in our faces? all the boys and girls must be the buoy. let's win one for the Sicker! but first...

Halwa: ...let me take a selfie?

Kelechi: no put your phone down, Halwa. *tsking* woke.

Kelechi wheels in a workable DeLorean and parks it in the middle of the course.

Kelechi: before you trot out movie references, don't cos i didn't see that movie. there is no extra credit in life. this is not a driving school, it is a drive school. all i care about is how these open gullwing doors reflect on my shiny calves. what drives this badboy puppy you cerebrate? it's not the flux capacitor...

the tires rotate harshly on the concrete and spark into flames.

Kelechi: horsepower isn't everything. after all, all the streets in this neighborhood are hampered by those infernal STOP signs planted on every corner which always work. but this car does have planted in its heart a nanowire battery.

Deen: *smiling while bowing* sweet. chassis character. we're not worthy.

Kelechi: no you are not. and that is why only one of you will be behind the wheel for a test spin. everybody line up at the starting line. Halwa, head's up, put your phone up, pay attention, get to the front of the line. heads up, class, everyone participates. run the course without a car. fastest time wins. first person to break the tape gets a seat at the table. to drive the dream. the car is what we strive. the car is what we thrive. may the best man win. and lordy may that best man be a dark woman.
















2 comments:

Jules said...

Horsepower is EVERYTHING. You just ask Uncle Sigh *)

the late phoenix said...

Uncle Sigh has been put to pasture. he's not dead, just getting real fat. he's called Uncle Burp now *)