The Mental Patient

Chapter 13 - Grand Theft Auto (And more...)

"Son, do you really want to do this?" He cowers with no cover.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch! Don't ever jump into my motives. Now move; we're going for a ride. Jess, get your arse up, if you don't want to go to prison. I've found us a chauffeur, baby-girl."

Verve smugness tugs my smile both ways. A head held high as I heel out the door and over the stony chew of gravel, headed for Mr. Tubs truck. The overloaded forced-love-machine tries to veer around to the driver's side door.

"Yo! Yo! Where d'ya think you're going? You're my hostage fucker, time to start acting like it. Get in at the passenger side. Don't worry; I'll be up your ass, just so you don't spontaneously sprout an idea, okay." His eyes relay back a thwarted plan. Now all the voices in here giggle at his middle jiggles of his tiptoed wiggles.

We scale the titan steps of my captive's wagon and settle into the shelter against the shield of the police force.

"Seat belts guys; we want to be safe, don't we. Detach the trailer... hey, Jess, where we're going, we won't need loads, just the road." I waggle with swagger.

"I'll need to get out and disconnect certain parts manually."

"Okay, let's be quick about this, you're kind'a sandbagging my idea, dude. Don't be trying to take my blade from me, I'm growing kind of fond to it and plus it'll be a dick move if you did. This is my new favourite toy and I don't want to share, okay."

With haste, we hop out the cab and I observe my hostage abandon his livelihood. The smell of week-old burgers and violent sexual violations are cherished on every nose hair as we climb back in.

He starts up the engine and the mammoth growl jitters the Earth. He fiddles and masturbates with the gear stick; presses down on the foot peddle and bingo. Hell, here we come. On the dash are fast food wrappers, cassette tapes and one of those Hawaiian dancing panel decorations, lucky for all of us, she butt-ass naked. Stop staring, Kyle, you'll go blind, save it for later.

"You okay honey?" I brush a loose hair behind Jessica's ear; she shies away from my touch. She'll get it over it.

"So, what is your next move, my friend? This isn't the way to do things, you know. We can talk about this, can't we? Your girlfriend there, she doesn't look like she is part of this." Is he trying to reason with me?

"What the fuck did you just say? She ain't my girlfriend, she's my sister. And if you look at her again I will cut your brain out and make sure the last thing you taste between those chubby cheeks is your own brain matter..." I point the knife at his face. "Keep your eyes on the road or your eyelids I will close, dick-wad."

His sweat sweetly swans down from his greasy swept whiskers. His eyeballs screwed firmly to the road, he has switched his defence to autopilot. When humans are met with an unreasonable ricochet, you can always count on them to stand and take it or completely remove their pride from its path... weaklings.

The night dies out prematurely as blue blurs and red revolvers skid and squirm their way closer to our scurry. Here they come.

"AAARRRRRGGGG! Won't this fucking night end? We need to go faster. They're so close their cars are practically fingering our arseholes." I emit over the engines oomph. The trucker begins to slow the accelerated beast and begins to pull over and surrender.

"Give it up son; it's the only way this could have panned out. You have killed two police officers, what did you expect was going to happen? Think of your sister... C'mon."

"I told you not to go there, motherfucker! In death, we all think about all the people we want to bring with us, good or bad." I bring the knife up and wave an edgy smile under his chin, blood erupts entirely over the dashboard, window and steering wheel.

Jessica slopes down to the foot well of the cab. I think I have broken my sister. Whoops.

One cop car revs up from our rear; the other two cars drive on and form a line before the next corner of the street, blocking the road, around fifty meters ahead.

I unclip the door and with all my anger and all my almighty emaciated strength, I push on the body of this nobody. Headfirst he cartwheels and cascades down the resilient stepping.

My butt-cheeks and upper-legs are steeping in warm blood as I launch myself into the driver's seat. I slam the door shut, almost taking a few fingers off in the promptness. Right away, I remember how The Fat-Boy geared up and down and drove this bad-boy. Checking my side mirrors, I target on my pursuing parasites positioned behind me with no prerequisite for persuasion only prowling perseverance.

I wrench on the stick, allowing the back tires to screech into a reverse posture, the back frame manages to swallow in one guzzle my cop-clique with possible cocked-clips, one down two to go. I signal the gear stick into advancement, we clang from on top the car, the transport tremors as we hit the concrete. "Ready or not, we're coming for war; we're not men of the cloth, so plenty will drop, of course." I sing a reassuring poem to myself.

Pop – Pop – Pop! They are actually shooting at the truck to slow me down, never gonna' happen. With a bam, I ram the gathering go-getters. Some dive and escape the turmoil but the stragglers are sent spiralling down their mortal coils. Cheery ending here we come, set a course for bliss. Sometimes you must betray everything, which you are to make yourself happy.

As we roll on, we pass Maybury sewage plant. The aroma of millions of shitty baby nappies lavished in decaying teeth soaked in lumpy curdled milk, crashes into us. Realizing we are now most wanted and being hunted, we need to ditch and dash this horrendous tank. The painted blood on me has begun to set in; rubbing my fingers and thumbs together, I flake off my victims.

"Jessie, I'm going to be pulling over soon honey, you wanna' come out of there. We'll need to keep moving... Jess? Hello... You okay, babe? Hey, c'mon sweetheart, it's me. Talk to me."

Not a peep. She's really in there deep, isn't she? I don't see what the big deal is, it's not like she killed anyone; she just watched me do all the work. I mean, if anyone was going to be disturbed, it would have been me.

I bring the defiant truck to a defeating deceased cease from this travelling death dealing disease.

"It's time, let's go." I wake her from her much-needed sleep; sorry, I am dead to the world; no more rainbows, flowers or butterflies for you.

Holding her up in one of my arched arms, our shoes scrape across the grass and sloppy mud; we totter towards a caravan trailer park. As we reek our way through the weak greenery, the grass bows to this newly awakened reckoning. We stumble upon a caravan, cut-offed and masked into the ghostly smokescreen of an expiring campfire and a curtain of backfiring night sky; some propelled plan plops pleasant proposals, which proceed to pester my patience; if I am going to Hell, I am going to need a ride. A catastrophe asks after me, I know what I must do. I moist my lips and peck Jess on the forehead.

"Stay here..." I barely remark. She hunkers down. Her hands become armoured earmuffs. I secure my fingers around the stemmed handle of a shovel; our father has drenched us in a landslide of bad times, it's now my destiny to dig my catharsis out for the both of us.