Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Microstory 218: Friendly Fire (Part III)

When I was in elementary school, I had a best friend. He and I did everything together in the beginning, but with each passing year, we grew further and further apart. I was more into sports, and he started not liking the outdoors so much, so we stopped having all that much in common. A few years ago, much to the joy of all my girlfriends, I finally signed up for Facebook. I don’t use it all that much, but a lot of people prefer it to any other form of communication. The other day, my former best friend, who I hadn’t so much as spoken to since early in high school, popped up on a list of people I may know. He was the only person on my list who I chose to send a friend request to. Everyone else had friended me instead. After he accepted, I browsed through his profile page, and discovered that we both ended up living in the same city. He had moved recently, and didn’t know anybody else, so I told them that he could call me if he ever needed help with anything. I didn’t think he would take me up on it, but then he calls me this morning. He’s just been in a car accident and is sort of freaking out, asking me if I know of any lawyers that would be cheaper than the ones at my firm. His license plate tags are out of date, he can’t find his registration, and he thinks his turn signal light wasn’t working. He thinks he’ll be the one at fault since his black truck looks menacing. I don’t remember him being so dramatic. I don’t have anything to do today, so of course I decide to go down and help him out, pro bono. I’m driving down the road, just as a I normally would, but I notice the heat gauge thingy is all the way up to the H. It’s not all that hot outside, so I don’t believe it should be like that, but I don’t know anything about cars, so I ignore it and hope everything is fine. It isn’t. Just as I’m turning onto the last street, and can see the accident up ahead, my feet start to feel warm. Then the floor catches on fire. The floor..freaking..catches on fire. What the hell am I supposed to do?

Part IV: Police Brutality
Part V: Bad Thoughts

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