Page 61 of Meet Stan

The chain grew taut as a man on a huge, noisy Harley tore down the road. I was yanked along, barely able to keep my footing on the skateboard. He careened around the corner, and the chain swung me out wide.

“No, no no,” I gasped right before I slammed bodily into a bunch of overflowing garbage cans. Tin rained down on the street behind me as fetid filth exploded all over me. I pulled a banana peel off my eyes just in time to see that he was turning another corner.

I began reeling myself up the slack in the chain, so I wouldn’t get whipped out as far. I managed to avoid a collision with a telephone pole for this reason. A pigeon didn’t quite get out of the way in time and got caught in the duct tape holding my feet to the skateboard.

“Fuck me,” I screamed as we came around the block. I saw the dive bar coming up on my right side. I hoped that meant this joyride was almost over.

The biker slammed on his brakes, and I careened right into the back of the bike. I hit hard and doubled over, clutching my balls.

“Woo hoo!” One of the bikers came over and dragged me to my feet. They poured something over my head. I thought it was a beer until I realized it was syrupy. They were pouring motor oil over my head.

Well, there went my suit, but at least I got the Laredo escort. I was soon ensconced in my biker friend’s sidecar, along with a pit bull named Peaches, and the rest of the biker gang coordinated efforts to keep the streets clear for us.

A lot of the time this involved very illegal things like using their bikes to stop cross traffic so we could fly through red lights. It wasn’t long before we had sirens pursuing us, not to mention other people who had decided to join in on the escort just because it looked like fun.

The whole screaming mess of us turned the final corner before the airport. My biker friend grinned fiercely behind his beard.

“Hang on tight, it’s about to get real fucking crazy here.”

“Oh shit.”

He opened up the throttle, and we shot forward like a rocket. I felt the wind increase tenfold until it felt like a physical hand trying to push me out of the sidecar. I grabbed the handlebars and felt myself sliding out to the edge.

The biker let out a full-on, lusty laugh, which I could barely hear above the din of the engine and sirens. Suddenly, his beard ripped away, revealing a shaven face underneath.

“Jack?” I sputtered, but she didn’t have time to answer. I was looking into the face of our resident private eye.

Jack hit a hard turn, so hard the sidecar’s wheels came up off the ground. The dog leaned outward, and I did the same. The sidecar came back down onto its wheels, and we survived the turn. Barely.

“Um, Jack?” I said as we sped along a narrow two-lane road.

“Yes?”

“That’s a chain-link fence ahead of us.”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “Try to keep your limbs inside the sidecar.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The dog whimpered and shoved his head in my armpit. “Jack? Why aren’t you slowing down?”

I grabbed the dog and hugged us both down into the sidecar. Jack hit the brakes and jackknifed the rear end into the chain-link fence. The sidecar smashed through the gate in between, and then Jack tore off again.

“Look out,” she yelled as we drove right into the terminal itself. People scrambled to get out of our way. She drove us all the way up to the baggage claim and skidded to a halt.

“All right, get off,” she said. “I just committed I don't know how many felonies I need to skitty.”

“Jack, did you plan this whole thing? Wait, how much exactly do you know about the whole thing?”

“They say that you can't play the player. Well, in your case, I could. Or, it is better to say,wecould.”

Jack smiled and it looked ominous with prosthetic chin still gangling from her face.

"What do you meanwe? Did you and Jon and the others know about our arrangement?"

Jack winked at me and as pair of security guards charged in for her she took off. Me and the dog watched her leave, both of us panting.

Wait a minute. Me and the dog?

“Jack, you forgot your dog…”

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