Siren Songs.....

I seem to find time in August to write in this blog for some reason. I don't know why. Right now I am up late because I can't go to sleep. So I decided to craft another episode of my flight of fancy involving Deuce Maverick, Private Eye. If you want to know where he stands right now, you will have to read the previous posts.

Sirens. Did I mention sirens? I hear them. And they are getting louder. Incredibly for some reason my mind begins to ponder sirens. And I don't mean the ones on top of cop cars. I mean the mythological sea nymphs that called a siren song to weary sea traveling men in order to vex their minds and use their bodies for their own private joys and....stuff. I've always wondered what such a sea nymph would look like. Invariably during late night web wanderings I have searched for artist renderings of such creatures and have been surprised at the numerous takes on their appearance. Some have depicted them as birds or ghosts that float by as they sing. I spend more time pondering the depictions that show them naked and barely clothed than I do the avian caricatures. Of course, what most men like me tend to forget is that being possessed by one of these creatures is supposed to be unsavory. I find that hard to believe for some reason. A beautiful, naked woman wants to capture me with her wonderful singing and pleasure herself using my body for all of eternity. Yeah, I'm still not sure I see the unsavoriness of this predicament. It's like the same unsavoriness I feel when I hear about some high school guy banging his hot English teacher at the age of 14. Yeah...

Sirens. Cops. I have a problem with cops. And as I still do not know what kind of predicament we are in, I make a decision. I help Liddy out of the car. It takes a few minutes but finally she makes it. She's got hash browns in her hair which is really gross but I let it go. I know if I say something I will never get her in the taxi cab. I see one coming down the opposite side of the street and I flag him down. He pulls up, cautious like.

"We need a ride."

He looks at the big Euro sedan, crumpled by the side of the road and sitting on it's roof. He looks at me. I'm sure he's seeing the caked up blood on my face and the dirt and grime on my clothes. He looks at Liddy. For a second I think maybe he is seeing the hash brown hair and the streaky mascara from the rain and crying. But who am I kidding. He sees her boobs.

"That your car?"

The question begs some kind of explanation. I don't have time for it right now.

"No."

No lie there. It's not my car.

"We are going to 35th and Vine."

I push Liddy in the car and climb in behind her. As we drive off, cop cars, ambulances and fire trucks converge on Liddies sedan.

The taxi driver looks at me.

"You know it's like against the law to leave the sight of an accident, right?"

I wish I had a gun. Instead, I pull a hundred dollar bill out of my wallet.

"We would really like to get to 35th and Vine sometime tonight and sometime quickly."

I hand it to him. The speed of the taxi doubles immediately and the sirens and flashing lights fade behind us.