close call and how we probably wouldn't of made
it out alive, when suddenly, the power in the
car ceased. I tried to start it again, but to
no avail. The rear-view mirror showed me that our
hooded friends were less than a half a block
behind us and were rapidly closing in. Our ass
was in the sling once again.
Those occultists were pretty determined mothers.
I wonder if this has anything to do with those
cat bones I picked up? It doesn't matter now,
nathing does, except getting out of this tricky.
situationn NOW!!
We decided to ride it out on our boards. We
bailed out and I gave Ivan my board to replace
his thrashed model, while I grabbed my street
board from the back seat.
As I pulled out of the car, the first hooded
figure came running up to me. I winged the thrashed
and broken board at its feet, immediately knocking
it down face first into the street. More hissing.
The bottom of my board was all covered with the
blood from Ivan's bleeding wounds. I tossed it
onto the ground and mounted, pushing off to catch
up to the rest of the guys who were pumping heavily
down the street.
We thought we were scott free when we rounded
the corner, but running at us from the other end
of the street were seven more of the Websters
using the scattered assault formation..
We excelled with a few more strong pushes. The
figures provided excellent obstacles for effective
street slalom. We sliced right through their line
of defense like butter. All except Ivan. He stopped
to get a little redemption for his wounds. Satisfied,
he sped away.
We skated for miles at a steady clip, frequently
checking to see if we were being followed. Finally
we split up and went our seperate ways. I was sure
glad to see the old neighborhood. I stopped by a
lightpost for a brief rest...
Leaning against the phonebooth beneath the light,
I looked up at the stars and pondered the infinity
of space. How some things are harder to perceive
than others. "Where will I be tomorrow?", I thought
to myself. Then the phone in the booth began to
ring, yanking me back from the haze of deep thought.
I let it ring, but it persisted. I walked into
the booth, closing the door behind me. The phone
continued to ring. I slowly reached for the receiver
at the same time noticing the drastic drop in
temperature inside the booth. I put the receiver
to my ear. Nothing. It was silent for a moment
and then a soft ticking sound started as if the
mouthpiece at the other end was being tapped upon.
I listened as the sound increased in volume,
louder and louder until it vibrated the structure
of the phonebooth. It was then that I realized
that I was not alone. I was surrounded by at
least ten of those hooded things. Trapped by
the ringing phone in the phonebooth. Oldest trick
in the book, and I fell for it.
The noise increased to unbearable levels. The
Websters pounded on the booth in cadence with
the loud ticking noise. "That was it. I can't
take this much longer."
I wedged my board against the door so those
creeps couldn't get in. Ice crystals were forming
on the walls of the booth, but I was sweating
profusely. I began to feel faint and dizzy.
Everything was going dark and I felt as though
I was losing control of my motor nerves. Everything
I went pitch black. I was helpless. All I could
sense now was the ticking. It was echoing inside
my head reverbally.
TICKING.
TICKING.
TICKING.
TICKING.
I awoke with a start. Someone was banging on
my bedroom window. My bedroom window? I was home.
It was all a stupid dream. I went to the window
and drew the curtain. It was Rex. Today we were
going to skate that pool at the Websters. That's
right. They're out of town for the weekend.
I gave Rex the five-minute signal and turned
to put on my clothes. I looked in my closet for
my pool board. Nothing. Probably in my car. MY CAR::
I grabbed the rest of my gear and flew outside.
My car was in the driveway where it always is. I
opened the trunk to see if the board was in there.
Nothing. I checked the backseat. No pool board,
but my street board was lying right there on the
seat. I grabbed it to put it away in the house
and continue my search for the other board.
The street board was wet to the touch, I turned
it over to see and dropped it in an instant. I
fell back against the car, staring in horror at
my stained hands. My street board was covered
with blood.
-Johnny Tough-