I'm back! It's breaktime, but since I don't have a job (to my greatest chagrin) so I've been sleeping in (YES) and studying (I'm not crazy I swear). Lots of studying. And editing The Well of Souhaiters. Yeet.
So, here's another weird short story, this one where I practiced dialogue. I tried to go for something more conversational-I'm-telling-a-story-in-a-weird-accent thingie. So yeah. Should be interesting!
I obviously didn't do a rom-com (sigh, I'd love to see one of these). But seriously, this tho. Imagine your otp.
Okay, okay, I'll get to it. Here's the lil short. :3
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Well, it all started on a hot, dusty day somewheres about the middle of Utah. The year was 1989, I thunk.
That was the year of infernal heat, I tell you. It was crazy. The weather just kept gettin’ hotter that summer, it never stopped. That is, it didn’t stop in the summer. It got cooler when winter came ‘round, of course, but that summer was the hottest I’ve ever seen.
Anyways, I remember standin’ on the side of the road with my thumb out. I was hitchhiking, you know. It was one of my favorite pastimes, beside killing. So I was standin’ there, sweating my back end off and wonderin’ who would pick me up. I think my previous kill had been a mom. Yes, that was it. It didn’t bother me a bit that she’d had three kids, of course, ‘cause I wasn’t an insecure serial killer no more, oh no. I was a big boy, I’d gotten past my young self.
What was I sayin’? Oh yeah. A few cars had buzzed by, but they only covered me in dust. I cursed at them. I’d been standin’ there for about an hour, too, so I was sweaty as all get out. My backpack was slung over my shoulder, but I was about to take it off because of the extra heat. That old black thing was great for storin’ guns but terrible for wearin’ in the monster summer of ‘89.
Like I said, I was just wonderin’ who’d pick me up this time when all of a sudden, a real sweet Chevrolet Corvette with out of state plates came zoomin’ around the corner and screeched to a stop beside me. It was the newest model, too, and a gorgeous shade of red. The window rolled down and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen peeked out at me over the passenger side. Her bright red lipstick matched her car, and she wore blue jeans and a skin-tight red top. All that red nigh made me faint. My eyes hurt just thinkin’ ‘bout it. Just then, she spoke up. “Hey!” she said in a sassy voice that made my heart jump. “Where you going?”
“Anywhere but here,” I answered, and I remember addin' a wink for good measure.
Then she smiled and patted the seat beside her. “Hop in.”
I opened the door and slid in. Man, that car was sweet. I remember thinkin’ that just to touch it was enough, but then…well, then I realized that when I killed her I’d get the car. Half of me didn’t want to kill her, because she was so dang pretty, you know, but the car part convinced me.
Then we sped away, kicking up a monster cloud of dust behind us. The girl flashed me a grin and sped up even more. I nearly yelled in exhilaration. That car can pick up speed in a New York minute, I tell you.
“So what’s your name?” the girl asked me after slowin’ down a bit.
“Mike,” I answered, giving a random name. Always give a random name when you’re about to kill a person.
“I’m Jennifer, but you can call me Jen,” the girl answered my unspoken question.
“Nice to meet you, Jen.” I think I winked. It’s never a good idea to get to know your victims before murdering them, so I decided it was time. I unzipped my backpack, reached inside and pulled out my pistol and put it to her head in one quick motion.
The only problem was that she also had a gun to my head.
I was stunned. This had never happened before. I had no clue what to do. I was speechless--I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Jen just laughed, her red lipstick flashin’ in the beating sunlight. Man, I love the color red. Anyways, then she said, “Well now, this is interesting. I’ll let you know that this gun isn’t for self defense.”
“Neither is this one,” I stuttered. Jen laughed again and my heart jumped near up to my throat. “How--How are you driving while doing that?” I croaked. I was tryin’ to keep an eye on her and one on the road, but it was nigh impossible.
“Oh, I’ve had practice,” she replied just as smooth as butter. “I’ve been driving--well, I mean killing for a while now. I usually pick up hitchhikers and then take care of them.”
“Funny,” I said. I’d finally gotten a bit of a hold over myself by now. “I usually hitchhike and then kill the drivers.”
“Interesting,” she said, leanin’ back a little in her seat. “Should we form an alliance?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Both of us slowly lowered our guns. I had the sudden urge to run my fingers through my hair and ruffle it up a bit, like those kids on TV.
Lookin’ at me from the sides of her eyes, Jen sped up the Corvette a little. I felt my stomach do a weird flip and blamed it on the speed. “So what’s your real name?” she asked.
“It’s Chris.” I attempted a chuckle, tryin’ my best to sound attractive. “And what’s yours?”
“Ashley.” She laughed, and I joined in. Hey, it was funny!
“Where are we going anyway?” I remember askin’. The scenery was pretty blank, aside from the random bush, but I think I saw a small town ahead.
“I thought we could stop for coffee,” she answered, shootin’ me a sly smile.
“You read my mind.”
---------AND THAT'S HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA
So yeah. Plot twist, huh?
I feel like I didn't establish the whole "I'm a serial killer" aspect very well. Any tips?
See you guys soon!
~~zoë wingfeather
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