Post by mutt on Jun 18, 2011 14:41:40 GMT -5
This is something I wrote a while ago. It's absurd, basically. Enjoy (Or don't, it's not like I care. *sniff*) Some "strong" language and violence.
Mr. Miller’s Drive Home
Life had always been absurdly ordinary for a one Mr. Lawrence Miller. When he was born, he knew exactly what to do when slapped, and promptly did so in a most usual way. He got through school without once getting sent to the principal, graduating in the top ten percent during a particularly humid ceremony. While he didn’t avoid parties, they never threatened the degree in Computer Science which he obtained in a quaintly average four and a half years. As he climbed the corporate latter he bought him self a new, shiny, and terrifyingly practical car so that his neighbors could come stand in his driveway and talk about the new governor and all manor of things thats neighbors talk about while admiring the new car on the block. It was in this shiny, yet terrifyingly practical, car that he would encounter possibly the most bizarre occurrence of indeed anyones life. The very occurrence that would eventually change Mr. Miller’s life forever.
Traffic was light on Lawrence’s way home from work, and he thought very little about the five extra miles per hour above the speed limit he was traveling at. He became very aware of them, however, when a small rodent dashed in front of his car. After the screeching of tires there emitted a small bump which forced Mr. Miller to examine the possibility that had he been going the speed limit, the bump perhaps would not have happened. Pulling to the side of the road he stepped out of the car and hurried to inspect the poor creature, who had not died, but rather lay quite injured on the tarmac and breathing heavily. With a glimmer of hope for the critter Mr. Miller dashed back to his car in order to retrieve a small shoe box. He then drove back towards town, making very sure that his speed did not go above the posted limit and glancing occasionally at the box sitting next to him on the passenger seat. When all at once he heard, in a most unusual voice, “Where are you taking me?”
He replied, most calmly for it had not yet registered in his mind that squirrels could not speak, that he was driving to the local vet. It began to strike him as odd, and indeed very wrong, when the squirrel protested to being taken to the vet.
“Beer. Beer is all I need.”
Fearing that the supernatural was a force to be reckoned with, Mr. Miller chose to comply with the squirrels request, and rather than pulling into the parking lot of the animal hospital, he pulled into the parking lot of Dave’s Fine Spirits. He then retrieved a growler of very expensive ale, for he did not know if squirrels were picky about their beer but he thought it best not to risk it. After pouring a bit into the critters open mouth, he was generally not surprised to see the squirrel bounce to life. He was surprised when there came a loud knocking on the car window, glancing over to see the face of a very stern looking police man. Mr. Miller had forgotten that having an open container in a vehicle was quite illegal, and it appeared that that the stern looking police man had been waiting for this kind of infraction all day.
“No man, he can’t take mah boozeohal. Man, you gotta shank the pig and make a break for it”
Lawrence considered the squirrels words. He knew it would be a bad idea to stab a police officer, but he did owe the squirrel. After all, he had almost killed the poor creature. Mr. Miller smiled through the window at the stern police man, and slowly rolled it down the window. After exchanging most unpleasant pleasantries, he began to reach towards the glove box as if to retrieve his registration. He instead retrieved a rather sharp knife which he plunged into a police officer who was not stern anymore, as so much as he was dead. Quickly Mr. Miller started the car, and expediently exited the parking lot.
While driving southbound towards the border, Mr. Miller pondered on the path his life would take now that he was a criminal. Perhaps he could start a new life, he thought, teaching farmers how to program. The squirrel however, pondered nothing, and had procured a joint which he was now lighting.
“Dude, it’s cool, we will chill with mah bro Pedrito.”
A one Lawrence Miller felt that his life had suddenly become far less than ordinary, but felt no ill towards his new miniscule friend. After all, what business did he have to question such supernatural events?
Mr. Miller’s Drive Home
Life had always been absurdly ordinary for a one Mr. Lawrence Miller. When he was born, he knew exactly what to do when slapped, and promptly did so in a most usual way. He got through school without once getting sent to the principal, graduating in the top ten percent during a particularly humid ceremony. While he didn’t avoid parties, they never threatened the degree in Computer Science which he obtained in a quaintly average four and a half years. As he climbed the corporate latter he bought him self a new, shiny, and terrifyingly practical car so that his neighbors could come stand in his driveway and talk about the new governor and all manor of things thats neighbors talk about while admiring the new car on the block. It was in this shiny, yet terrifyingly practical, car that he would encounter possibly the most bizarre occurrence of indeed anyones life. The very occurrence that would eventually change Mr. Miller’s life forever.
Traffic was light on Lawrence’s way home from work, and he thought very little about the five extra miles per hour above the speed limit he was traveling at. He became very aware of them, however, when a small rodent dashed in front of his car. After the screeching of tires there emitted a small bump which forced Mr. Miller to examine the possibility that had he been going the speed limit, the bump perhaps would not have happened. Pulling to the side of the road he stepped out of the car and hurried to inspect the poor creature, who had not died, but rather lay quite injured on the tarmac and breathing heavily. With a glimmer of hope for the critter Mr. Miller dashed back to his car in order to retrieve a small shoe box. He then drove back towards town, making very sure that his speed did not go above the posted limit and glancing occasionally at the box sitting next to him on the passenger seat. When all at once he heard, in a most unusual voice, “Where are you taking me?”
He replied, most calmly for it had not yet registered in his mind that squirrels could not speak, that he was driving to the local vet. It began to strike him as odd, and indeed very wrong, when the squirrel protested to being taken to the vet.
“Beer. Beer is all I need.”
Fearing that the supernatural was a force to be reckoned with, Mr. Miller chose to comply with the squirrels request, and rather than pulling into the parking lot of the animal hospital, he pulled into the parking lot of Dave’s Fine Spirits. He then retrieved a growler of very expensive ale, for he did not know if squirrels were picky about their beer but he thought it best not to risk it. After pouring a bit into the critters open mouth, he was generally not surprised to see the squirrel bounce to life. He was surprised when there came a loud knocking on the car window, glancing over to see the face of a very stern looking police man. Mr. Miller had forgotten that having an open container in a vehicle was quite illegal, and it appeared that that the stern looking police man had been waiting for this kind of infraction all day.
“No man, he can’t take mah boozeohal. Man, you gotta shank the pig and make a break for it”
Lawrence considered the squirrels words. He knew it would be a bad idea to stab a police officer, but he did owe the squirrel. After all, he had almost killed the poor creature. Mr. Miller smiled through the window at the stern police man, and slowly rolled it down the window. After exchanging most unpleasant pleasantries, he began to reach towards the glove box as if to retrieve his registration. He instead retrieved a rather sharp knife which he plunged into a police officer who was not stern anymore, as so much as he was dead. Quickly Mr. Miller started the car, and expediently exited the parking lot.
While driving southbound towards the border, Mr. Miller pondered on the path his life would take now that he was a criminal. Perhaps he could start a new life, he thought, teaching farmers how to program. The squirrel however, pondered nothing, and had procured a joint which he was now lighting.
“Dude, it’s cool, we will chill with mah bro Pedrito.”
A one Lawrence Miller felt that his life had suddenly become far less than ordinary, but felt no ill towards his new miniscule friend. After all, what business did he have to question such supernatural events?
