The Key Is Not Minding

The candy bar wrapper fell almost to the ground before being swept up in a southernly wind that forced it to careen into a white minivan. The white minivan parked nose to the street some three feet from a Donna Silvers who was a cold and now without chocolate. She knew that man who got out of the minivan looked shifty with his hoody and calm demeanor. She also knew that her nipples must be visible through her winter coat.

Donna was feeling low this winter night, deprived of a beau thanks to the trepidations of a Florida rooted aunt that was dyingof  97 year olditis. At least Donna had shelter thanks to Victor, Ned’s next door neighbor. Ned was leery of leaving Donna alone in his apartment due to a window that was broken two months prior. Victor was more accepting and forgiving of Donna’s way. The short jokes were a tad much but they were in lieu of rent.With Victor’s stogies in her pocket she ambled back to her temporary home.

Five loud pops echoed through the night and then she heard a terrible screech. The two passengers van felt a bump, while Donna felt the curious sensation of being caught between a pothole and the front axle of a Detroit built automobile. Curiouser and curiouser, she found herself inside the rear left wheel base, turning swiftly. She was ejected out the back promptly landing on a subcompact.

The van immediately hit a parked trucked and prohibited from forward momentum, the two gentleman left their vehicle to assess the damage. They’re attention soon turned backward to the subcompact with blood and guts all over it. The compact woman who was driving the subcompact car was quite indignant until she saw the sunglasses, the bandannas over their faces and the sizeable handguns. Then she got meek.

“Shit Jack, we messed this bitch up.”

“And now we gotta kill them both Cado, they know our names.”

Jack, the man who entered the gas n’ gulp, leveled his .38 snubnose at Donna’s bloody mass. Cado, the idiot and wheel man, was protesting. He had bad habit of talking with his hands and the 1911 he was holding.

“Damn it, man I’m not down with murder.”

“In for a penny in for a dime.”

As Cado raised his arms to say forget you, Donna pulled a Lazarus. With an arm that was stripped to the bone in some places, she grabbed the .45 from the now stunned man. Jack pulled the trigger but found only clicks. Donna was aiming squarely at his chest, the red dot made that quite apparent.

“Jack darling, that’s not a Smith and Wesson. You get five, not six. I’ve got at least six judging by the balance.”

She turned to see Cado fleeing down an alley.

“Looks like you’re all alone Jack. Why don’t you go return that money to that nice man you robbed and wait inside for the authorities.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’m going to let this little lady shoot you.”

The little lady opened a toothy grin. Jack obeyed but with sadness and grumbling. As he entered the gas station with his duffel bag, Donna slowly began to sit on the edge of the ruined side panel. With tentative motion, she stepped on the ground. At first she was wobbly, but then she stood erect. Despite the fact that her knee joints were visible, they were quite functional. She plopped the pistol on the destroyed hood.

“Does it hurt?”

“Being ran over? Yes, but the key is not minding that it hurts.”

She turned and walked home as elegantly as she could could muster, humming her favorite overture. First thing, lemonade with ice, lots of ice. Then maybe shower if her flesh had grown back by then.

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Carson Margedant
    Jan 11, 2011 @ 08:05:44

    I’m still pride myself on making stories stand alone-ish but technically this is part of an ongoing story.
    The bigger story starts here.


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