It’s dark out here. No moon tonight.
There’s another deer on the side of the road. There’s what’s left of a raccoon.
A possum.
Somebody told me when there’s no moon, animals can’t see because of how their eyes are built.
No moon, no night vision. They need light to be able to see threats.
This idiot should have let me drive. I know he thinks he’s got this under control but windows down and radio blaring does not make a Highway Animal Warning System. And it’s freezing. I’ve got goosebumps bigger than this asshole’s balls.
The car shook and shimmied for a fraction of a second.
-Shit! What was that, Mick?
‘Huh?’
-You didn’t hear that?
‘Hear what?’
-Stop the car. You must’ve hit something back there.
‘If I did, what’s the use of goin’ back? It’s probly dead and I’m not a veter, vetern, vetrin, animal doctor.’
-C’mon, sweetheart. It’ll just take a second. Slide over here and I’ll drive back.
You can stay in the car and I’ll go check.
Consider it your good deed for the day.
Who knows? It might be just the thing that keeps you from going to hell.
‘You know what? You talk too damn much.’
-And you drink too much so it evens out. Scooch over a little so I can fix the seat belt.
Loretta wedged herself in front of the steering wheel, sighed, and put her right arm behind the passenger seat. She grabbed the chrome skull on top of the shifter, slipping the ruby-eyed atrocity into the ‘R’ slot and began slowly backing up, looking steadily over her right shoulder into the darkness.
Mick belched with his face half out of the passenger window.
‘Nice night.’
-Be quiet for a minute, Mick. I want to see if I hear anything.
Loretta braked gently and turned off the engine about six car lengths from where they started.
‘I don’t hear anything.’
-That’s no surprise: you’re so plastered you keep passing out and snoring. You don’t even know you’re doing it.
‘HEY! That’s not true!’
-Oh, yes, it is. One of these days I’ll make a recording. It’s probably the only time in your life you can say you’ve got rhythm. Snore breathe, snore snore breathe, snore breathe. Put it on the radio as ‘Obese Walrus Waltz’ and make a million dollars.
‘Shut up and look for your old dead animal. I bet you just imagined the whole thing.’
-I’m not getting out of this car. It’s wicked dark and your idea of a joke would be to drive off and leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere.
She saw a quick flash of teeth and knew he was sober enough to consider the idea a good one.
-Alright, Mick. You win. I can’t hear anything and there’s nothing to see. Let’s go home.
Bluntedhedgehog 