(This is for my creative writing class. I liked it, so... why not stick it here? :D)
Save a cow, eat a vegetarian. I chuckle at the bumper sticker on the window of a dingy yellow VW bug. It's one of the old Beetles, engine in the trunk, you know. It also seems to have contracted some sort of skin disease, because raw, dark orange splotches cover its body. One eye is blind, cracked beyond repair, and the poor Bug is even missing a few teeth, it seems.
The interior doesn't look much better. Seems like this bug has seen plenty of late-night parties. The yellowed foam of the seat cushions shows through like ulcers, and the rest of the upholstery is faded and dingy.
I pop open the front passenger door and breathe in the smell of stale gasoline and old french fries. On the floor is a mass of papers and books, lying as still as dead moths.
I find an old McDonald's bag with the refuse of a value menu meal inside. The wrapper from a Double Cheese, a medium size fry carton.
After a little bit of riffling through the mess, I find a pair of soccer cleats and shin guards, grass-stained and worn like old friends. Inexplicably, they make me smile, and I replace them carefully in the place I found them.
I am not surprised to find an overripe banana on the dashboard. It is still mostly yellow, but riddled with brown measles.
But the last thing makes me laugh. An old wooden oar. It is short, only four feet in length. It is weathered and smooth, as if it is simply driftwood disguised as a paddle. I cannot imagine why this car would house a tool it will never use.
I pull myself out of the microcosm of a college student and close the door with a hollow slam. I turn away from the car and see someone coming straight toward me and the old car.
He is blonde, with shaggy curls and a bright smile. He wears a simple t-shirt with a chic, weathered logo on the front. His jeans are stylishly manufactured to look as vintage as his shirt. His backpack is slung over one lean shoulder, and he holds a half-eaten apple in one hand.
With a grin and a chomp on the apple, he asks, "You like Big Rhonda?"
- This was a lot of fun to write, and as I go back over it, I see a lot of the things in the car came from real things I always had in cars. The car is named after Michael's late car Rhonda, who always had a mess on the floor. And the oar was something I had in my truck for the longest time. So this was just an exercise in imagery for my creative writing. -
<3 = brittany
