TBP’s Online Writer’s Guild #21 starts with a funny story of a woman stuck behind a truck that lost a large load of root beer syrup. Then there are the 3 prompts: ‘It’s good to see you Bernice;’ ‘A handy blade;’ ‘I need a crowd to get lost in.’
She screamed for help, but she knew no one could hear her. She didn’t dare open her window. She grabbed her purse and rummaged for her phone.
“Dammit!” She muttered, as she realized she’d left her phone at home. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!” this time bashing her fist sideways against the driver’s side window with each curse. How was this even happening? The whole thing was like a scene from a bad B-Rate horror film. The Day Root Beer Foam Ate Los Angeles.
“Dammit,” she repeated. There was nothing for it but to sit and wait.
**** **** ****
“Well, it’s good to see you, Bernice,” a hunky firefighter laughed as he washed the last of the sticky foam from her car, signaling her to roll down her window. The window jerked as the machinery worked its way through the sticky morass that had seeped in between the glass and car door.
“It’s a wonder they didn’t put you guys in hazmat suits,” she quipped. The hunky firefighter smiled a beautiful, toothy smile. “How you know my name, anyway?” she asked.
“The cops,” he said, pointing to a couple of patrol cars, “got the info off of your plate. Anyway, you OK?” Bernice nodded. “Good,” he continued, “Now, I see you’ve got a flat tire, so why don’t you pop open your trunk and I’ll grab your spare and get ya all fixed up.”
Bernice tried the trunk release below her seat a couple of times, but it did not open. She then tried to get out of her car but her door wouldn’t budge. “You push,” the firefighter said, “and I’ll pull.” He gave the door a hard pull while Bernice slammed her shoulder into it, and with a loud THOOP, it opened.
“Yeah, that syrup’s gonna have everything sort of sticky and stuck together” the firefighter said. “You’ll wanna get your car detailed.”
Bernice struggled to open the trunk. The key turned fine, but the lid was glued shut with syrup. “You got a knife handy, or something?” she asked. “Maybe wedge it in there, or something?”
“Oh, sure. Sorry!” He jogged back to the fire truck and returned with a large utility knife. He slipped it between the lid and the vehicle, gave a gentle twist and, THOOP, the trunk popped open.
“Ta Da!” He grinned, like a magician showing off his best trick.
As adorable and hunky as he was, Bernice was not in the mood. “Look, thanks for helping. Really. You’re sweet. But, I just want to get home, call my insurance, pour a big glass of wine, and then veg in front of a movie, or get lost in a good book, or something.”
“You bet. I hear ya.”
An hour, maybe? I started and then was interrupted. Came back to it, and was interrupted again. I really am no good with keeping time, but I tried! My choice is #50.