Roy was fucked up.
He assessed his situation after waking up in his car only to find that he was parked in front of a green light.
Suddenly, as his foot was finding the gas pump, his phone pinged for a new Ulpher rider request.
It was someone close, he remarked to himself as he continually jabbed his foot towards the general area of the gas pedal.
Before eventually finding the pedal, Roy mashed his middle finger against the phone to accept the request.
Two demolished mailboxes later, he skidded to a halt in front of the pickup location.
The man walking up to the car appeared flustered, keeping one of his hands tightly pinched atop the bridge of his nose as he swung the rear passenger door open with the other hand.
“My apologies for the delay sire, I had to stop by the WC,” Roy said in a futile attempt to appear sober while also testing the waters of his new British accent.
“It’s okay. Please just take me to my location.” the man said curtly.
Roy acknowledged this by bobbing his head back and forth like someone who should never handle a motor vehicle or dual wield chainsaws.
“Your destination is my command,” he militantly stated to his passenger. He was so impressed with how far video game graphics had come as he stared blankly at the person in his virtual car.
The man riding Cobain didn’t care to notice that the driver had his head sloped against his right shoulder while driving. He didn’t care to notice pretty much anything around him as a baffling identity battle raged throughout his head.
“So, Perriwinkle, you got a name?” Roy slurred to the rider in his car.
“Um, you actually said my name when asking that question. Is everything okay, Roy?” Perriwinkle began to notice the gravity of his situation.
“Yeah man, we’ll get you to where we need to go in a jiffy,” Roy slurred to the worried man in his car. Time was slowing down as he spoke. Enter stage right, the edibles.
Roy knew it wasn’t in his best interest to eat half a batch of cosmic brownies just before driving for Ulpher, but he also knew it wasn’t in his best interest to sober up while away from his condo.
“Alright, screw this.” Just as Perriwinkle was unbuckling his seat belt, Roy’s head perked up in a crazed state and he began a peculiar ululation.
Seconds later, Perriwinkle’s head whipped back against the seat after Roy curb stomped his gas pedal.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOI-” he attempted to scream above the esoteric pattern of tongues that Roy was bellowing.
Roy knew the only way to get to King Buttondrop’s Crystal Palace was by going 40 over the speed limit in a suburban area while trying to drive as much as possible on the opposite side of traffic. He was glad the drugs weren’t affecting his driving abilities.
He noticed through his rear view mirror that the man in the backseat was jumping around like a madman. “Can you please calm down? We’re never going to get there if you keep disturbing me,” were the words that Roy’s brain told him to say.
Roy’s body, on the other hand, sputtered out a mess of words and letters that would have been acceptable only if Perriwinkle was in the mood for Alphabet soup vomited in a cup.
Soon after this, Roy turned around to stare at Perriwinkle and attempted a recreation of The Stare and Drive from 2 Fast 2 Furious.
Roy didn’t feel the pickup truck slam against his front bumper. He also never wore his seatbelt.
The momentum from the crash slammed Perriwinkle’s head against the back of the passenger seat.
When he lifted his head, he was horrified to see the bottom half of Roy’s body laying atop a quagmire of glass and blood.
Perriwinkle could hear people shouting in his direction to see if he was okay as he silently remained in a catatonic state of shock. Then he heard something fall out of Roy’s pants and roll under the driver seat only to land on the floor next to him.
It was a clear vial that held a mysterious iridescent liquid.
He couldn’t pinpoint the reason, but once his eyes met with the vial an alien feeling arrested his entire thought process.
He remained transfixed on it until he heard someone knock on his car door and ask him if he was okay.
Perriwinkle closed his eyes, imagining himself picking up the vial and stuffing it in his pocket, and then let the Good Samaritan know that he was fine and able to get out on his own.
After getting assessed and cleared by paramedics, Perriwinkle checked his phone to see how far he was from The Funeral home.
5 blocks to go. He could walk.
As he was crossing the street to another block, his phone rang.
“Are y…..ou…com….ing or not?” whispered the old lady he had talked to earlier that day.
“I am. I will be there soon,” said Perriwinkle matter-of-factly. “Also, how did you get this number?”
But before the old lady could answer, the call abruptly ended.
More questions for a later time.
He needed to get to The Funeral Home.
To be more continued…