I looked in the car. It was empty. It had a new car smell to it. With my week in the Texas sun bodyrot, I overwhelmed that immediately. "So, so there's nobody else here?" I said. I still felt very tweaky, my head was reeling with the queeling. If this was some kind of trap, I'd take it wherever it led, as long as it wasn't to jail.
"Well, there's me."
"Where are you? Is this one of those radio-controlled cars?"
"Radio-controlled? Bwahahaha. What century are you from, Kid?"
"This one. You know, how they can use, shit, like the radio to control every car on the road." I was using my hands to describe the mysterious car-controlling waves in the air.
"You seem kind of out of it."
She could have been my younger sister now, sneaking up behind me at school, trying to bust me. Look deep in my eyes, sis.
"I've been tripping for maybe a week. Shit, I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"You know, it's a good idea to come down every once in a while. And by the way, I'm totally a cop."
"Fuck."
"Just kidding."
"Fuck you! Look, I had to eat a whole sheet because I thought the cops were on me."
"You want to avoid that too." A burst of old timer rock'n'roll burst out of the speakers that seemed to be on all sides of me. "Paranoia will destroy ya," the vocalist sang.
I nearly hit the vinyl roof. "What the fuck? Why did you do that?"
"Just having fun. What's your name?"
"That's a fucked up thing fucking with someone just because you know they're tripping like some wacked bitch."
"Oh, it can get a lot worse. Don't worry your little head about that." And she emphasized the word head, pingponging and echoing in my head.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Madra. And I'm not your mother."
"So are you sitting at a computer somewhere Madra? You just cruising your little toy car around, picking up people and fucking with their heads? Is that what kind of sick fuck you are?""Temper, temper, Sparkplug. I only mean you the best in this fucked up world of fear and refuse. In fact, one day you'll thank your whole constellation of pinball bumper lucky stars that you were sitting in that spot with your bloody mouth and your 8 cavities, one of which probably needs a root canal, and, what's that?" Sniffing sounds. "Genital warts?"
"I'm out of here. Hey, what the fuck, there aren't any doorhandles."
"Don't go, Sparkles. Really, I'm just concerned. I'll let you go any time you say, but only after you find out why this is your lucky day and how you passed so close to a cybernetic Florence Nightengale."