If you still need to read part one, here it is!
If you have read part one but need to catch up on part 2, Go Here!
When we left our story last time:
I was still laughing as I fell into the drivers seat and fought to keep my insides from being introduced to the upholstery. I tried to start the car without the key hoping that it would start the same miraculous way the door opened. Of course, it didn’t work. I sat there trying to think how to get home when some non-fogged portion of my brain remembered the spare key duct taped to the rear fender.
I lurched out of the car and searched with my alcohol numbed fingers under the fender. I felt the old duct tape through the crusting of mud and pulled the key free from it’s moorings. I cheered triumphantly and held it high like a trophy. I got back into the car, started it, and pulled from the curb hoping that I was headed to my house.
I was cheering my driving, thinking that I was as good as a top Nascar racer, negotiating corners with surgical precision at breakneck speeds. Upon reflection, the only thing that I was right about was the breakneck speed. My driving actually resembled the winding erratic course of my favorite video game. I was all over the road. I had almost finished what I called the qualifying lap and was less than three blocks from home when it happened.
There was a sickening crunch followed by a bloodcurdling scream that reached through the alcoholic fog and gripped the core of my brain. My heart skipped a beat and I slammed on the brakes, instantly sober for that second. “Oh hell.” I thought out loud. “Oh my…. What the hell did I do?” Of course I already knew the answer to that question. I had hit someone.
I began to shake and mutter incoherently. The last clear thought that I had was, “Damn Drunk Drivers” and the alcohol reasserted itself in my brain. “Of course” I began to drunkenly rationalize out loud. “He just jumped out in front of me. It wasn’t my fault.” Right. I started to hyper-ventilate as I opened the door, leaned out and looked back at the still figure lying on the road, steaming in the February night. I was in serious trouble. I knew he was dead. Dead and I had killed him in my arrogance at being able to drive while intoxicated. No, not just intoxicated, stinking, sloppy drunk.
Even my numbed brain knew that there was a very Long jail sentence waiting for me, maybe ten years, maybe the rest of my life. What was I going to do? I was muttering more and more unintelligible things progressing toward hysteria. I screamed at the top of my lungs “WHAT HAVE I DONE??? WHAT THE HELL DID I DO?!?!?” Terrified, I jumped to a hasty conclusion that was to be my undoing.
I slammed the door of the car, looked up and down the street for anyone walking by, and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The tires squealed and the car shot forward. I had added another crime to my dossier and by now I didn’t care. Manslaughter and leaving the scene of an accident. Life for sure now.
Somehow I made it the remaining three blocks home. I have no memory of just how I accomplished this but I did. I pulled my dented and now lethal car into the garage attached to the side of my house. I hoped that none of my neighbors had seen me pull in driving wildly with a dented hood. I pushed the button on my remote control engaging the mechanism of the overhead door, shutting out the world and shutting in the murderous evidence. I vowed not to open that door again until this incident had blown over. I didn’t know how right I was.
Part 4 will be waiting Here next week!
Thanks for reading!
The Rest Of The Story:
Part 1 Starts Here!
Part 2 Continues Here!
Part 4 right here!
And Part 5 Is Here!
Part 6 Right Here!