Rabies McGee

Fuck.

In through the nose out through the mouth. That's it, keep your eyes on the road. You need to slow the Sark down as soon as you can without getting rearended by this dipshit pig tailgating you, then we can all deal with the fucking hobo. Click. Was that Ben's seatbelt or the knife? Click. Okay, the first one was the seatbelt, that last one was the knife. Shit. The struggle behind me just rammed my seat forward with great force. Bang. Clomp. What the fuck was that?! "Holy Shit!" Was that surprise or pain? Ben must have knifed the hobo. We're going to jail. How in God's name am I going to explain a ripped transient in the back seat to a fucking cop? Fuck this shit, we're stopping NOW. Hit the dirt shoulder at forty-five. Ben is smashed into the dash. Spin around to the backseat. GRRRRCK. Seatbelt, unfasten seatbelt first. The back seat is empty.

"Where the fuck is he?!"
"He jumped out of the fucking car, man!"
"Jesus Christ!"
" SLOWLY GET OUT OF THE CAR WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD."
"ON THE GROUND NOW!"

"And that's why I want that speeding ticket matted and framed." It started as simple flirting but that stopped about twenty minutes ago. She was obviously captivated by the story. And why shouldn't she be, it was the most exciting event I've ever experienced or, god willing, probably ever will.

"What happened to the homeless guy?" she asked.
"We don't know. The cop thought we were trying to get out of the speeding ticket. He apparently didn't see our hobo friend bail out of the vehicle.
The local yokels were called out to do a halfhearted search after he'd cuffed us, but they didn't find anything. They didn't believe us either. They were all convinced we were drunk. Made us take three separate breathalyzers and a blood test. Jackasses."
"But was he hurt?" She seemed genuinely concerned.
"Well, probably after he hit the gravel at sixty-five miles an hour. But no, Ben didn't stab him, if that's what you're asking. Not for lack of trying, though. Bastard tore the ever-loving shit out of my back seat." I glanced at my watch and noted I was probably going to be late for my next class.
"So, how much is that going to be?" I asked.
"Not all that much, I think. I'll call you when it's finished." She took my hard-earned speeding ticket and placed it behind the counter.
"No problem." And at that I grabbed my hat and headed out to my faithful Cutty Sark. I had them fix the suspension just after the incident and they've cleaned the inside of the vehicle three times since then with the finest chemistries known to modern science, but the stench still hadn't completely cleared out. A memento.

Godspeed, Rabies McGee. Godspeed, you crazy motherfucker wherever the hell you
are.