Status: Hiatus
Dali
Taxi Drivers
I’ve always hated taking taxis. Drivers don’t usually speak English, sometimes they get lost, and if you aren’t careful, they’ll try to kill you every once and a while. I stared at the driver through the rear view mirror. He glanced at me every so often. He looked a lot like my cousin Finn, before that bike accident. The driver must have noticed the uneasy look on my face.
“Relax,” he said in English, with a fake New Jersey accent. I nodded quickly. I knew in the first forty seconds in this thing that I wasn’t going to where I asked to go. He missed the turn a few minutes ago. It was moment like this that I hated my Toyota. It rarely broke down, but when it did, someone usually ended up unconscious. I gave a look at Felicia, my cat. I had wanted a dog, but when my Grandfather died, Grandma Pearl wasn’t willing to take care of her herself. Now I was on my way to my sister’s apartment to drop her off. I would have kept her, I just didn’t like cats. They scratched. A lot. Felicia meowed when I looked at her. A memory of Grandpa Neil popped into my head.
“Gently stroke her,” he said in his usual hoarse voice. I stroked her softly.
“Listen to it Grandpa,” I said, a bit older than ten-years, “She sounds like she wants to kill me.” My grandfather laughed lightly.
“Nonsense,” he said with a smile, “who would want to kill you?” he asked. I shrugged.
“Really mean people,” I said.
Little did I know, the world was full of ‘really mean people’. After all the things that I’ve done, everyone wanted me dead. But that’s another story. I looked at the mirror again. The driver was staring at me. I looked out the window to take my mind off of him. I noticed we were on a bridge of some kind. I had had enough of this.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked him. He didn’t respond. I looked back out the window. Everything seemed to be moving faster now. He was speeding up. Felicia meowed again and jumped into my lap. I tensed. Obviously the cat sensed danger too. I looked around the taxi. I could have jump out, but I doubted Felicia would do the same. I wrapped a seatbelt around myself. The driver saw me.
“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked in his fake accent, though it faltered a bit. He reached around and tried to undo my seatbelt wrapping. I grabbed his wrist and tied another seatbelt around it. He tried to retract it, but it didn’t work. Now the taxi was swerving all over the place as he drove with one hand. “Ah!” he yelled, trying to regain control of the taxi. I shoved my foot towards the front of the car, smashing his hand against the steering wheel. He screamed in agony. We were now at a part of the bridge where one could, theoretically, jump out of the passenger side and into the river twenty-five feet below, that is, if one could, theoretically, smoothly exit a moving vehicle and cleaning make it over the guard rail. My middle name was Theodore, so I thought I‘d give it a shot. I kicked the window out in the back seat, and Felicia jumped up front from the noise. The driver looked from the cat, to me, and then back at Felicia. I waved at him as I slid out the window. Only my top half was out when the car suddenly jerked away from rail. I swore. I ducked back inside the car.
“Move this car back over!” I yelled over the sound of the wind. He shook his head frantically. I reached up front. “Fine, I’ll do it for you.” I said. I twisted the wheel around, but I accidently overdid it. The taxi swerved over the edge, into the river below. After a few minutes, I surfaced. I looked around. I heard a meow behind me. There was Felicia, that crazy cat. Where did she learn how to dog paddle?
“Relax,” he said in English, with a fake New Jersey accent. I nodded quickly. I knew in the first forty seconds in this thing that I wasn’t going to where I asked to go. He missed the turn a few minutes ago. It was moment like this that I hated my Toyota. It rarely broke down, but when it did, someone usually ended up unconscious. I gave a look at Felicia, my cat. I had wanted a dog, but when my Grandfather died, Grandma Pearl wasn’t willing to take care of her herself. Now I was on my way to my sister’s apartment to drop her off. I would have kept her, I just didn’t like cats. They scratched. A lot. Felicia meowed when I looked at her. A memory of Grandpa Neil popped into my head.
“Gently stroke her,” he said in his usual hoarse voice. I stroked her softly.
“Listen to it Grandpa,” I said, a bit older than ten-years, “She sounds like she wants to kill me.” My grandfather laughed lightly.
“Nonsense,” he said with a smile, “who would want to kill you?” he asked. I shrugged.
“Really mean people,” I said.
Little did I know, the world was full of ‘really mean people’. After all the things that I’ve done, everyone wanted me dead. But that’s another story. I looked at the mirror again. The driver was staring at me. I looked out the window to take my mind off of him. I noticed we were on a bridge of some kind. I had had enough of this.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked him. He didn’t respond. I looked back out the window. Everything seemed to be moving faster now. He was speeding up. Felicia meowed again and jumped into my lap. I tensed. Obviously the cat sensed danger too. I looked around the taxi. I could have jump out, but I doubted Felicia would do the same. I wrapped a seatbelt around myself. The driver saw me.
“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked in his fake accent, though it faltered a bit. He reached around and tried to undo my seatbelt wrapping. I grabbed his wrist and tied another seatbelt around it. He tried to retract it, but it didn’t work. Now the taxi was swerving all over the place as he drove with one hand. “Ah!” he yelled, trying to regain control of the taxi. I shoved my foot towards the front of the car, smashing his hand against the steering wheel. He screamed in agony. We were now at a part of the bridge where one could, theoretically, jump out of the passenger side and into the river twenty-five feet below, that is, if one could, theoretically, smoothly exit a moving vehicle and cleaning make it over the guard rail. My middle name was Theodore, so I thought I‘d give it a shot. I kicked the window out in the back seat, and Felicia jumped up front from the noise. The driver looked from the cat, to me, and then back at Felicia. I waved at him as I slid out the window. Only my top half was out when the car suddenly jerked away from rail. I swore. I ducked back inside the car.
“Move this car back over!” I yelled over the sound of the wind. He shook his head frantically. I reached up front. “Fine, I’ll do it for you.” I said. I twisted the wheel around, but I accidently overdid it. The taxi swerved over the edge, into the river below. After a few minutes, I surfaced. I looked around. I heard a meow behind me. There was Felicia, that crazy cat. Where did she learn how to dog paddle?
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