April 8th, 1964: Columbia, South Carolina
“It’s beautiful,” said Young Man as he gazed at the bus like a jewel aficionado over a three hundred carat diamond.
It was a Volkswagen Type 2 bus, painted a cheery Surf Green. Waxed with the best turtles money could buy, apparently, and fixed with, what looked like, brand new chrome bumpers and a brand new Flat-4 engine in the back.
“Yes, it is quite a beautiful machine there, my Young Man,” said Deception, “Now, this VW T1 van came in just a few weeks ago from the factory floor in Germany, so it’ll cost a bit extra, twelve-thousand, but, of course, it’s just a wee bit more for exponential quality and durability!”
It had been wrecked the previous week in Charleston. The Body Crew did a great job on it--not that the boy needed to know. He was lusting after it, obviously.
Young Man had saved up for this car ever since he was thirteen, and he was buying it. In fact, according to the pile of fresh gray mush between his ears, it was already his. His baby. His Girl.
“I’ll take it.”
October 10th, 1967: Columbia, South Carolina
Old Man and Old Woman cried fruitlessly after their son, as he putted away in his Girl. He had yelled at them in a drunken haze and, apparently, had “endured enough.” So, he left with a huff and a small plume of exhaust.
They were honestly surprised that The Man didn’t show up with Young Man’s corpse and a box of Condolences the next day.
August 18th, 1969: Bethel, New York
Lucy didn’t have anything on Young Man. This was paradise. 200 milligrams was all it took. Lucy didn’t know anything, floating in the Sky with her Diamonds. Young Man didn’t need any Diamonds.
The syringe fell from his limp hand to his Girl’s thinly carpeted brown floor. Deception, clothed in only her pride, called out to him from the back row of The Girl’s pinstripe seats.
“Hey, babe, do you have any more? Babe?”
Young Man could only hear Lucy’s singing and the faint hum of The Star Spangled Banner from the back closet of his wrinkly gray mush. His eyes were already saucers.
January 20th, 1981: Seattle, Washington
It was raining, again, and Reagan was speaching about something or other. Not that Lifeless Man cared. The Man had taken his Girl. Repossessed Her. When did they ever “possess” Her in the first place?
Lifeless Man sighed into his steaming tin mug, filled with third-rate coffee from the supermarket down the street. He looked over at his bare cupboard. It was time to get more canned pork again, apparently.
And a new job, for that matter.
He went outside to procure some of those free Want-Ads.
April 8th, 1991: Los Angeles, California
Man’s child was born that day. A Girl. A real one. Honesty was doing fine, apparently, as she wasn’t dead and the Doctor said so. Man jumped in the air several times while the nursing staff looked on with sensitive amusement.
Honesty smiled at him from the bed, holding their Girl.
“Would you like to hold her, Man?”
Man held out his trembling fingers and held his daughter, his Girl.
A doctor, holding a notepad, said, “What is her name?”
Man smiled and chuckled.
“Her name is Truth.”
There was a beautiful T2 Van, painted with a deep Cheddar Yellow, just outside the hospital, in view of the window of Man and Honesty’s room. Man never even noticed.
Written in 1 1/2 hours, as the idea didn't require my "Ultra Detailed Mode." More ambient than my usual style, and not my forte by any stretch, but, hey, I don't think it's that bad for a 90 minute session. : P
