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When a chiropractor hits you, is he soliciting business?

August 6, 2009

I was fucking perky as hell. I got into my old beat up car, a classic really, and raced. With my new engine I hit 120 mph down the dark, deserted highway. I don’t recommend doing. I was a dangerous girl then. A thought blossoms, I thought of how fabulous it would be to mingle with some people. I’d dominate the scene. I’m off to where the people are at this ungodly hour.

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I had to be to Argentina in the morning with my husband. I wouldn’t be out too late. I pulled up to the dive bar. It was closing time. Damn. Then I spot him, the guy I met a few weeks ago, Dallas.

Then I remembered, after getting out of jail on my 24th birthday, a few days ago, I was driving back up to L.A. I got a text. It’s from Dallas. He wants to go running again. Bam! The next thing you know a shitty car hits me on the driver side. The bloke just missed my delicate self. Fuck! My axle has been hit; steering isn’t working. The driver hands me his business card.

He’s a chiropractor, how convenient of him to go around hitting people in blown out civic. I think. I read the card, “Miracles Happen.” I laugh and pound my head on the wheel, still parked from the accident. I toss the card on the passenger seat.

I manage to steer backwards and get the car to a closed auto shop down a dark front street. I leave the keys and rent a car.

Anyway that’s the last I heard from Dallas, the night I was hit by a chiropractor.

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There are crowds of people outside the bar.“Get the fuck in,” I yell towards Dallas, manic as fire. I can’t remember his name, but ‘you’ worked. He hopped in. “You’re fucking crazy, Mea! What are you doing?” I laughed and howled into the wind.

We almost make it to his door before he has me pushed up against a wall and is taking advantage of my sexual appetite.

We lie on a cot on a deck that overlooks the ocean under the stars. We decide to have a little house in Texas, and little kids. See, we’re in love. And we don’t even know each other. But what is there to know? That I’m bipolar? That he’s a hijacker of cars and trucks? Fuck it. I sing. Play with me, Dallas, my lover in the night, in the dark, where secrets lurk. Play with me. I dare you.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. tvexplorer permalink
    August 6, 2009 8:56 p08

    That has to be the greatest first line of any blog post I’ve ever read: “I was fucking perky as hell.” Awesome 21st century wordcraft! Love your stories…as always.

    • August 10, 2009 8:56 p08

      Wow! Thanks for the first line blog award presented by no one less than tvexplorer himself. I’m truly honored! No. Really, I am!

      I had a better a picture to post with it, but sometimes a contrasting approach to the layout and message works best. 😉 Can’t be too perky, or it may kill the messenger. Or not? I’ll have to play with my words and photo’s more. 😉

      “Awesome 21st Century Wordcraft,” love it!

      Thanks again tvexplorer. Hey, your not so bad yourself speaking of wordcraft, in fact, your pretty fucking good! As I’ve mentioned!

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