…oncet I knowed a feller what swerved his car to avoid hitting a polecat…ran over three priests and a rabbi…just missed a couple preachers…regretted it the rest of his life…
Monroe D. Underwood
I spotted the ’74 black Mercury when I left the building.
It was parked just north of my car.
There were two guys in it.
Both had beards and moustaches.
They were watching me intently.
I walked to my car.
Nonchalantly.
I got in.
Nonchalantly.
I lit a cigarette.
Nonchalantly.
I started the engine.
I stomped on the accelerator.
Rubber screamed and smoked.
The Olds 98 rocketed away from the curb.
The Mercury got started late but my rear-view mirror showed that it was closing fast.
As I approached Mama Rosa’s grocery store I saw Mary Bright’s Airedale dash into the street.
I hit the brakes.
The Olds fishtailed.
It went over the curb and onto the sidewalk.
The Mercury sideswiped a tree.
It wiped out a mailbox.
It knocked over a fireplug.
It crashed into Mama Rosa’s grocery store.
I heard the sounds of falling glass and a lot of hollering.
Then I heard a lot of hollering and the sounds of falling glass.
I piled out of the Olds.
Water was spurting thirty feet into the air.
Women were screaming.
Babies were crying.
Bonzo was barking.
I headed for Mama Rosa’s grocery store.
Mama Rosa was beating the Mercury driver over the head with a pepperoni.
The passenger staggered free of the wreckage.
He jumped through what was left of the plate glass window.
Bonzo was in hot pursuit.
A moment later I heard the passenger yelling liberare me abietto bestia.
The driver broke loose from Mama Rosa.
His gray eyes protruded like a grasshopper’s.
He demolished a potato chip display.
He went through the door.
He didn’t open it.
He lit out for the alley.
I started after him.
I tripped and fell.
I bounced to my feet.
I rounded the corner.
I saw Myrtle Culpepper bring him down with a flying tackle.
I stopped.
Sirens wailed in the distance.