The Pathetic Noises
but you grab it between finger and thumb- struck the ground emphatically with his stick
- asked Jerry for a gun
- sell you a chainsaw in the desert
- is biological in nature
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The pathetic noises came from a dilapidated station wagon limping along the dirt road, chuffing and squeaking and dragging several of its body panels along the ground. The man at the wheel wore a moldy top hat and sunglasses made of gummi worms.
He rolled down his window as the car crept alongside us. “Name’s Jerry. Can I give you folks a ride?” Svetlana coyly allowed him to see that her wrists were bound with electrical wire. Jerry didn’t seem to mind.
“Sure,” I said. I put Svetlana in the back seat and went around to the front passenger door. Jerry didn’t ask us any more questions. As he drove he told us about his thrilling career as a race car driver, and how he spends his time in retirement inventing edible eyewear. “The design inspiration is biological in nature, i.e., worms. It’s just like normal glasses, but you grab it between finger and thumb and off comes a snack!” He demonstrated. He boasted about the many high-class boutiques that bought his designs, saying, “I’m the kind of guy who could sell you a chainsaw in the desert.” Like that was a thing. At one point Svetlana interrupted and asked Jerry for a gun. I thought I might need to take the pistol out of my pocket, but he ignored her.
Predictably, the station wagon wheezed to a halt and wouldn’t move despite all of Jerry’s swearing, even when he got out and kicked dust on it and threatened it with a stout tree limb that he brandished like a club. Even when he struck the ground emphatically with his stick.
“Thanks for the lift,” I said. “We’ll leave you to it.”