“Hold on tight baby, we’re going for a ride.”
“But Sam, my hair.”
“Baby, hair ain’t got nothing to do with it. Jump on and let’s go!”
“Fine – are we really going to that dinky little drive in?”
“Dinky? Dinky? Only all the best hot-rodders are seen there! We have to go. It’s Saturday night – he’ll be there.”
“Oh no, Sam baby, I thought you were over that.”
“Over it, honey? No way. He’s got the best damn custom hot rod this side of the Mississippi – hell, he’s got the best damn custom hot rod on either side of the Mississippi. And he’s going to be there at that ‘dinky little drive in.’ He always is, every Saturday night.”
Mary Ellen sighed. Gus’ did serve a great custard. “Fine. We’ll go look at the cars. But I’m telling you, if he pinches my butt one more time . . .”
For Day 15 of the Creative Writing Challenge: Stranger. I saw a couple on their bike, heading to Gus’ (It really is a place, they do have great custard, and yes, every Saturday night, April – November!). This flash fiction originally appeared on the Community Storyboard as The Stranger’s Hot Rod.
D: Do people know that this is how you view the world?
A: Considering this is a public blog, yes, I think they do.
D: Hm. . . that settles it, then.
A: I’m not sure I want to know, but settles what, D?
D: The modern world is no place for a Druid like me.
A: You’re just mad because you can’t have the custard.
D: . . . . maybe.