Stories from the List: Revision

A better version of #9 that I wrote for my Intro to Fiction class 2/9/1993.

The pedal is pressed hard against the floor. The tires, in a desperate attempt to gain traction, squeal in protest and a billow of dark gray smoke rises. The exhaust roars. Finally, the tires gain traction and my head is snapped sharply back and my eyelids peeled open as 112 screaming horsepower let loose their fury. The 1985 Ford Tempo is hurtling my mass of flesh and bone to mach speeds quicker than the blink of an eye. I struggle to breathe as the powerful g-forces flatten my rib cage.

Fifty, sixty, seventy pass by in a flash. I still have plenty of room left in third gear and I know my baby has enough guts to hit 90, but a sharp bend in the road is bringing my fun to an end. My foot releases the thankful pedal and pounces on the brake, forcing the untamed savagery of my car down to a more grandmotherly 40 mph.

No sooner had I released the brake when I see the ever popular blue flashing lights in my mirror. Five-0. No problem. I flip off my shades and get ready to talk smooth.

The officer however had other things on his mind. Grabbing my neck, he rips me out of the car, and viciously smashes my face into the pavement with his knee planted on my neck. When I question him about my constitutional rights, he begins to beat me with his club. When it breaks on the bridge of my nose, he starts to bite my ears. I am shocked that this is happening to me. He soon grows tired of my ears and slaps the handcuffs on me. The officer then proceeds to drag me by my feet to the car with my head bouncing along on the pavement below. He heaves me into the back seat and slams the door on my left leg. It really hurts when he starts to drive and my foot becomes stuck under the wheel. When I try to make him aware of my suffering, he punches me in the mouth knocking me out cold.