Jason And The Seven - A Story Of Odd Sorts
Posted by Goody on 05/6/08 in Arts and Entertainment
Jason found himself quite annoyed at the two tractor-trailers that had boxed him in on the 205. Here he was in his little old white punch bug of a car sandwiched between the two monster rigs. He cringed every time he wondered whether they had been drinking or not or had a good nights sleep. One mistake and he would be road kill. He laughed out loud thinking it would be nice right now if this little bug really was Herbie.
“Oh God!” said Jason’s second personality, he had seven, Brian. “There you go again with the Disney movies. You make me –“ The sound of a horrendous crash cut Brian off, followed immediately by screeching tires, screaming horns and crunching metal. The tractor-trailers closed in on the bug squishing it from the sides. Metal groaned and scraped as they came to a stop.
There was a bright flash and a giant dandelion appeared in front of his car. “OH NO! Great! I have allergies and now there is a big flower,” screamed Brian.
“Oh stop yer freaking out. It’s a flower,” said Billy Ray, personality four.
Tires were still screeching and Jason knew he needed to get out. He wiggled through the window because the trucks had mashed his car to half the width. Once free he slid down the hood and ran towards the giant dandelion like a girl. Scarlett had chosen to appear at this most inopportune moment.
“My oh my, I feel a case of vapors coming on.” Scarlett fanned herself wildly. “I really must sit down and rest before I faint. A nice mint julep would be so refreshing right now.”
The Dandelion, who was actually a manifestation of personality six, kindly obliged, bent down and produced a perfect mint julep, then said, in an unmistakable Gentleman Butler tone (although his real name was Rupert):”Madam, may I offer my arm and escort you out of these rather frightful surroundings?”
Billy Ray smirked. “Oh, now it’s talking. Someone wake me when it’s over”.
Scarlett ignored the rude interruption and with practiced grace slipped her hand through the offered arm.
Butch, the truck driver, watched from the cab of his smashed truck as the young man popped out of his accordion VW bug. He was amazed that anyone had survived the crash. He sat wide eyed watching this young man start and stop and general odd movements as he made is way clear of the pileup. First running then slow, prissy walks with wildly fanning hands. Butch shook his head hoping to clear the fuzzy cobwebs. The young man was still high stepping across the highway and appeared to be giggling with one elbow stuck out clasping his hands at his chest.
Butch reached for the door handle and pushed the cab door open. Moving his left leg to get out of his demolished truck, he felt a tug on his right. A wave of nausea and pain shot through his body. Closing his eyes to steady his mind, he took several deep breaths then opened them once again. When he looked down at his right leg, the sight caused the pain and nausea to rise again, and he screamed.
Bones, personality eight, raced over to the truck when he heard the screams, he knew exactly what to do for the injured truck driver. This would be a piece of cake compared to some of the problems Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock had gotten into. Bones gathered his wits about him and reached for… his cell phone and dialed 911. “Oh my gosh, I’m in an area with no service,” he shouted to anyone within hearing distance. “These people are barbaric!”
He wanted none of the blame for this. Alcohol would surely be a factor when fingers pointed at him. He certainly didn’t want to have to fly a shuttle with one of those new red plates that proclaimed to the world he, Bones, had a problem with drink.
Bones faded away leaving Jason literally holding the leg. The truck driver’s leg, that is. Jason screamed like a girl (no, not Scarlett) and dropped the bloody stump of a leg. The far off sound of metal on metal still echoed in the air as the massive pileup of cars continued. Jason knew he had to get out of there before any more personalities showed up to cause trouble.
Before he had a chance, personality three, a Good Samaritan by the name of Jordan McCay, loaded the twisted body of the truck driver onto his back and carried him out of the tangled mess looking for a functioning car to take them to a hospital.
“Don’t cha worry, my man. Have no fear, Jordan’s here. It’s all gonna be O.K.”, he said, a familiar barrage of words, as his breath labored under the weight of the driver, walking and talking simultaneously.
After huffing the driver twenty feet from the truck Jason came back collapsing under the man’s weight. Confused, he looked over at the driver only to realize he was dead because Bones didn’t bother to put a tourniquet on his leg so he bled out.
“Darn it Bones!”
“He’s dead Jason. He’s dead!” said Bones as he snuck out for a moment.
Jason, realizing that cars were still pilling up and that he may still be in harms way, stood up and started running. He didn’t make it more than ten yards when he tripped. Falling forward he closed his eyes bracing for the impact. After several seconds he realized he hadn’t hit. He cautiously opened one eye not sure what else he would find with the number of bizarre things that have been going on. All he could see was the ground just inches from his face.
Jack R. Mason - Author, Armchair philosopher, scientist.
Email jackrmason@gmail.com
Blog - Ponder the Thought http://zigtag3d.blogspot.com
http://zigtag3d.bravejournal.com/
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