Revenge is a Rough Road by frogbook
"Show me the Carfax!"|
That's what I should have said the first time. Second time around, it really didn't matter. I was out to buy the first car I saw. Oh sure, there were some requirements, you know, wheels, tires, windows, doors... oh, and the right salesman. No, not salesperson. Political correctness has nothing to do with my mission.
Besides, my mission is a man, not a woman. A specific man, though he is just one of a million with his loud shirt, bowtie and babbling a line of shit about the greatness of his cars. Not a brand, not a type, just any car on his tacky lot, which is also one of a million with a giant gorilla, (HUGE SALE!!), and a plethora of triangle shaped, two-toned flags tattered from blowing in the wind for years.
I see the fat gut over his belt and a cigar in his hand through his office window and I wave. Another salesman tries to help. I give him the cold shoulder. No, I want Ralph.
"Can I help get you into a fine vehicle, Miss? You've bought a car here before, haven't you? I never forget a face." Ralph smiles with tobacco in his teeth and smelling of sweat.
"Why, yes, yes I have," I say pretending admiration at his elephant-like memory.
'Matches his elephant-like belly,' is what I'm thinking.
In truth it pisses me off even more that he doesn't remember how he knows me, but then again, it's lucky he doesn't, I suppose. I didn't expect him to remember what he had done, the selfish bastard that he was.
He showed me several cars, grandstanding all the way, like a master-of-ceremonies at the circus. I settled on a small Chevy SUV, just because I've never been a fan of the brand.
I played dumb and asked him if he could take me for a test drive. I told him a new car intimidated me until I was used to it. He readily agreed... after all money was his only object. He hadn't changed a bit.
While he was fiddling with papers and keys and yuccin' it up with the boys, I was under the car and out again, with no one the wiser.
He climbed in the driver's seat and started it up, unaware that with my mechanics training, I knew that the knock that didn't go away was a rod. He, of course did not offer the information. I climbed in and he said, "Sounds great, don't she?"
I nodded and hoped the heat rising to my face didn't show. I asked if we could drive around the nearby lake. He was all for it. He prattled on while we drove. I had worn a skirt and he even, "accidently", let his hand trail down my knee while showing me how to shift to four-wheel-drive. It was all the encouragement I needed, that and the fact I had seen the last drip from the severed brake line in the rear-view window.
I released my seat belt and his, in one swift motion. While he was grappling to find it, I grabbed the wheel and turned it toward the cliff, heading into the turn ahead. I opened my door and rolled roughly out, onto the last foot of pavement.
I heard his scream as he fell the one-hundred feet and hoped the second shriek was him discovering his door would not unlock. The final crash was loud, but the explosion was deafening. I crawled to the edge of the cliff and peered over. I could feel the heat on my face from the fire. I smiled.
Now, he knew how my daughter felt in those last minutes, in the car he sold knowing it had defective seat belts.
Every inch of my skin burned, covered in road rash, as I waited for the sirens to draw closer. I practiced crying.
All rights reserved. |
frogbook has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement