Page 3 of A Little Christmas! Johnny
I’m going to be murderd by some cereal killer
I’m too cute to be dismememered
You would think that a man nearly a decade older than I am would be able to handle his car breaking down on the way home from Thanksgiving dinner, but my neighbor is not exactly the most mature person after spending time with our mutual friends. I love the man like a brother, but he needs to find a Daddy before I strangle him.
Me:
I told you to put air in your tires
The three dots pop up on my screen and disappear six times before my phone starts to ring. The last thing I want to deal with after the slowest freaking shift in the world at the grocery store is his theatrics.
I almost wish I would have popped open a beer as soon as I got home. At least I would have an excuse to not leave the house again. There is no getting behind the wheel if I’ve had even a single sip of alcohol. Losing your parents on Christmas Day to a drunk driving accident will do that to you.
“Yes, Russel?” I sigh as soon as the call connects. It’s not worth the headache I would get to ignore the call.
“Uncle Dex! My car is broke-ed-d.”
Shit. He’s lapsed further into his Little mindset than he usually would if he’s already talking like a toddler. My annoyance fades to the background while my inner Daddy takes over.
“What happened, Buddy?” I ask more gently than before. “Did you get a flat?”
The sniffles on the other end of the line almost obscure the soft “Nuh-uh” response from my neighbor. Pulling the phone away from my face, I let loose a string of expletives toward the ceiling. Russel’s ex-girlfriend supposedly took care of the car maintenance, but I have the feeling the bitch pocketed the money instead of getting the vehicle taken care of.
“Walk me through it while I come get you,” I tell him as I pull my coat back on. “I’m heading your way now. Did you take the usual route home from the club?”
More sniffles come through the speaker when it connects to the Bluetooth in my car. Cindy had better hope that she never crosses my path again. The only reason Russel didn’t lose his house to that bitch was the fact that it’s technically still in his father’s name and Dave refuses to sign over the deed to his son despite having lived in Florida for the last fifteen years.
“We went to the Manor for a movie after dinner,” he mumbles out before resuming his sniffles. “I hit a bump and I heard a boom and then all these flashy lights came on and then it broke-ed-d and now I’m stuck.”
Okay. I can work with this. Kink Manor – the house where a group of our friends live together up on Manor Drive – and the club where the get together took place are practically next door to each other, so he shouldn’t be that difficult to locate. As I pull out onto the main road outside of our subdivision, I keep him talking. With him already drifting in and out of his Little mindset, I need to do as much as I can to keep him Big – or at least as close to it as possible – long enough to get a mechanic or tow truck out to get the car.
“Alright, Russel,” I use his full name in an attempt to prevent a further slip into Little-space for him. “Uncle Dex is on the way. Are you safely off the road? Describe to me where you are, Buddy.”
After some more sniffles and a few hiccups, he finally manages to let me know he’s on the island at the turnaround on Route 51. It’s not the greatest place to break down, but at least it’s better than River Road with all of the tractor trailers and blind turns. In my time as a temp for Russel’s law firm in Pittsburgh before he convinced me to move to Wrenshaw, I’d seen way too many files come across my desk involving accidents along roads like that one.
Twenty minutes after getting the call, I pull my car up behind Russ’s easter egg blue Chevy Aveo. He bought the thing years ago because he thought it was cute. The only thing I ever saw when looking at it was an aluminum death trap. I had a friend in college who claimed she was able to drive on top of the snow in a blizzard in one of them because it wasn’t heavy enough to sink into the powder. Any vehicle that lightweight shouldn’t be allowed on the highway with trucks and buses.
Before I can push open my door, a tow truck pulls up in front of the Aveo, and the driver starts placing cones and flares in the road to divert traffic. I can’t help but look as he bends over directly in my view. Maybe I need to scratch an itch…
“Uncle Dex!” Russ pounds on my passenger side window, breaking me out of my lecherous thoughts for the random tow truck driver. Shaking my head, I climb out of my car and head over to the Easter Egg on Wheels to help my neighbor unload what he needs so that I can get back to bed.
3
JOHNNY
I need an excuse to stop making paper clip chains in the office. It is my only vice since I try to not have my Legos out at the office, especially at the dispatch desk where anyone can see them. It is still early enough in the evening that the drunks shouldn’t be getting pulled over yet. Plus, since rideshare became a thing, I usually get to deal with abandoned cars more than wrecked ones after holidays and party nights.
My first reaction to the call from the insurance company dispatch wasThank God. Checking the text from dispatch with the location, I frown.
Route 51 Southbound in Wrenshaw
Steve usually takes the calls around that area, but I gave him the night off because his wife just announced she’s pregnant. Even though I don’t usually work in that area, I’m not completely unfamiliar with it. I drive that stretch of road every time I make the trek to visit my nibling. My sister lives on the other side of Forward Township while I have the shop on the edge of Wrenshaw and my little apartment above it.
Okay, so the space above the shop isn’t exactly supposed to be lived in, but my old landlord kind of sold my last place without giving me notice. The new owners wanted to move in right away, not realizing that there was a tenant. Technically, I could have forced the issue, but I’m not exactly a person who enjoys confrontations. The family that bought the house were at least nice enough to let me keep some of my things in the garage until I could get a storage unit. Last I heard, they are going after the previous owner for breach of contract for a few things that he lied about – not just the fact that I was still living there.
And yes, I have my house... But with all of the work I’ve done on gutting the place, there’s no working electrical or plumbing – at least none that I would feel safe enough to use during nights that dip below freezing. Instead of doing a rush job, it’s easier to rent a cheap place to sleep and shower until I can get the things done the way I want them on the house. I just haven’t had a chance to really find somewhere that is cheap enough while still being close enough to the shop to make the expense justifiable.
Making the left turn onto Route 51, I glance at the social club that popped up after that grocery store closed down. With a name likeThe Devil’s Clubit’s no wonder that the sphincterally challenged like my family would have an issue with it. Personally, I’ve always wanted to check it out to see what it’s all about. It’s difficult to find information on it online without having to sign up for a membership of some sort.
