Late, so late...

No apologies again for not writing in so long. I made a promise to update this blog sometime within two weeks however and I am doing it. It seems I have one faithful reader who wants to know what is going on with Deuce Maverick.

So, let's find out.

We've decided to hide out at Liddy's place. You know, get some rest after a long night and escaping our deaths and all that jazz. The drive over there is pretty uneventful with one exception. We almost die in a car crash.

It happened like this. Liddy's driving (it is her car after all) and I am sitting in the passenger seat, flipping through channels on the radio. I've just scanned past Christina Aguilera and hit Jimi Hendrix when we pass under a green light at a huge intersection. Out of frickin nowhere comes an Escalade rolling on 20's and plows into the rear end of Liddy's Euro sedan (still can't remember the name of that thing). The Escalade hits us so hard that the sedan goes into a spin, round and round what seems to be about 6 times before we slam into a guard rail and flip over.

The above description makes it sound like all this only took about 6 seconds. And the truth is, that is about all it took. But I can tell you it seemed like eternity. First off though is the CRUNCH! You haven't heard a horrible sound until you've heard the crunch of cars plowing into each other at high speeds. It one of those sounds that when you hear it, you know instinctively that peoples are probably dead or dying. One time I was on vacation at a friends house and we heard this horrible crash outside. As soon as we heard it, I looked at my friend and said, "Somebody just bought it." We get up and look out the window and these two cars are t-boned in the intersection. Smoke and car parts are everywhere and one dude staggers out of his car and falls to the ground. Cars are already stopped and helping and since the sight of blood makes me ill, we decide to not go out. Pretty soon ambulances and fire trucks are everywhere. Later, we hear on the news that the two drivers were killed.

It's pretty much the sound of death. Meat puppets like us don't last long in high speed metal boxes that get in the way of each other. So as soon as I hear the sound, I figure we are done. I start thinking if there's anything I want to write in my own blood while I am dying. You know, "Love you Mom" or some such crap. I decide I will probably write "Outlaw cell phones while driving" since I am sure the driver of that Escalade was probably talking to his homey when he slammed us. Either way I hope I last long enough to get my last words out. But then I realize that "Outlaw cell phones while driving" is going to need quite a bit of blood and then I remember that I hate the sight of blood and I decide that I might have to write it in my own puke which is not nearly as effective or poetic as blood.

Now I told you it only took about six seconds but I swear I had time to go through all of these thoughts and more while waiting for the final end. It's about this time that we hit the guard rail and airbags pop all around us. And I mean all around us. These euro sedans sure love their airbags. I have bags hitting me in the face and the sides all to the tune of screaming metal and rubber. I feel like I'm in some horrible post apocalyptic popcorn popper and then Liddy starts screaming. I experience a piercing pain in my shoulder and I realize that the seat belt is probably going to cut me in half. Now I am a propronent of seat belts. I do believe they save lives. And they probably saved mine tonight no doubt. But they sure do hurt! I mean, can't we pad these things some way? I decide that my next car, if I have a car other than a hearse, will have sheepskin padded seat belts. In fact, I decide that I will see if any company makes sheepskin padded airbags in case I ever get in a wreck again. I wonder for a second what kind of term to use in my web search and if Googling "sheepskin seat belt pads" will turn up what I want or some horrible porn sight that scars me and my offspring for life. It's about this time that the car screeches to a halt and everything gets deathly quiet, for sure.

I don't know why she did it really. I mean, the food was horrible. Greasy and slick like recently exposed entrails...it was awful. So I can't for the life of me figure out what Liddy wanted to keep her leftover Waffle House. And I especially wonder at the intelligence of such an act right now as the smothered, covered, and diced hash brown residue slides down over my eyes. Unfortunately, I am unable to move at the moment due to a seat belt that has decided to tighten down to torture chamber proportions and the fluff of the popcorn airbags all around me. I like the hash brown stuff off my mouth enough to speak and ask Liddy if she lives.

I hear a whimper and a moan and decide she does. At this point, I realize that we are UPSIDE DOWN, dangling from our seat belts and that explains why they hurt so bad. A second later, a see a pair of brown LUGZ walk up to my window. A young, black man leans down and says, "You dead? I'll call 911 but if you already dead, I don't want to waste the minutes."

I spit hash browns out of my mouth and mutter, "not yet."

He flips open his AMP'D mobile and hits 3 digits. At that moment, we hear sirens and he hangs up the phone. "Somebody beat me to it. Just hang in there, they be here soon."

He walks away.