impulse

I hope they’re not schizophrenic is a phrase I find myself thinking often after I coincidentally do a few same turns in a row with a car in front of me. I hope they don’t panic and think I am following them… I mean, I am not, hence my concern. What if I cause an accident because they panicked because I “followed” them? That’d be unfortunate. For them, anyway.

Today, though, a new thought. What if I do follow them? I had already taken six turns in a row identical to the car in front of me. A blue 2007 Pontiac Vibe… Known as the Toyota Voltz in Japan, albeit they discontinued it there before that model year. What if I follow them and make their destination mine? Then, an even more uncharacteristic thought, What if I chose their destination?

The blue Vibe, I think, may have noticed. The driving all of the sudden became a lot more rushed. The driver stopped quick at the necessary intersections and sped off quick. My car may have helped the panic, I was driving a relatively new black 5-Series BMW with heavily tinted windows. A cop pulled me over recently and went to ticket me, but I was only given a warning since I convinced him I just bought it and that it was the previous owner’s doing… Only half of that was true.

The blue Vibe was driving in circles, by this point. The sun had set at this point and my headlights turned on automatically. Their brightness startled the driver ahead, since he swerved a bit when they came on. I really should adjust them to be lower, oncoming traffic keeps flashing me thinking I have my high beams on…

The blue Vibe stopped in front of a house. One with the lights open, and it seemed a family was having dinner. The driver rushed out, not even turning off the car and stumbled onto his side. I pulled over and walked out, a bit more calmly. Just a bit, though.

He was wearing a graphic tee-shirt with a faded design of one of the covers from the original trilogy of Star Wars. Light blue jeans, New Balance Sneakers. Maybe in his mid-40s, was balding and greying a bit. Or he’s had a stressful life. I walked up to him, he was still on his side, grasping his ankle. I walked up to him, stood over him… And just stared. He saw my serious face and panicked. He went to get up, but I kept him down with my heavy boot on his back. Besides his heavy breathing, my ears whining from the years of loud noises, and the autumn wind blowing, there were no sounds. The family inside hadn’t noticed us. They finished their meal and went to another room. Perhaps the kitchen to get dessert. Perhaps the living room to watch television or play a board game. Hopefully something loud.

He was wearing a face of utter fear by now, staring at me with anticipation. I went to pull something out my black coat from my inside pocket. He quickly blurted, “Wait!” I listened. “I will get you guys the money, I was just going to a deal, man!” I looked at him… Then delved deeper in my interior pocket. He shielded his face with his hands. I pulled out of my pocket a gun. Aimed it at him…

Then walked away.

I drove off and got back on the avenue from whence we came. I bit into my gun. It was made of cake.