The Principles of a Grand Hunt // Part 1 - A Cars Story

Chapter 3 - Serving the Overdue Sentence

Meanwhile...

It was a beautiful summer's morning over in the Carburetor County jail. Though Dash was serving an overdue sentence, he served it from a comfortable conjugal room; furnished with nice sleeping quarters, a bathroom, a lounge and a kitchen. He wasn't particularly thrilled about getting the celebrity treatment given that he wanted to serve time properly, but he was just happy that the guards took him somewhat seriously.

His weary eyes shot open as his alarm clock went off, causing him to slam the snooze button with a tire.

"Five more minutes, please." Dash pleaded.

Despite his words, he got straight off his mat and went into the bathroom to do his morning ablutions. As he finished, he closed the mirrored cupboard, staring at his reflection.

He wasn't in a good state. His body was littered with scratches and building rust from the aftermath of Nettes' crematorium job. Being any other car, he'd wash right up and be done with it. Not Dash, however. Racers like him tended to have these things done for them, so his hygiene and self-care was poor to say the least. Knowing that, he sighed, as he did most mornings there at the 'prison', tearing up.

"Ugh. Look at yourself. What have you become? Could you imagine what Demetria would say if she saw you like this? She'd probably break down... she'd probably think she failed you. You don't want that. You don't want her to pity-cry over you. Get yourself together, damnit..." Dash monologued.

His spiraling would be short lived as moments later...

"Boltarius!!" a guard by the name of Johnson called out.

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" he yelled out.

Dash raced out of the bathroom and went up to the front door, swinging it wide open.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Dash asked, still waking up.

"You look... aware, as always." Johnson noted.

"Yup! Always gotta be on the ball!" Dash said sarcastically, letting out an awkward chuckle.

Dash's eyes briefly wandered over to another inmate, who sat outside with a newspaper under another guard's supervision.

"I see Bob is still reading the papers like an old timer." Dash noticed.

"It's Bog." Johnson corrected.

"Yeah! Bob. That's what I said." Dash said.

"No, it's Bog; as in a wet, muddy area of ground." Johnson notified.

"No, Bog is a toilet." Dash corrected.

"Ugh... Bog 'wetland-related' always reads the paper." Johnson advised.

"But does he ever look up at the TV... in the cafeteria... when the news is on?" Dash quipped.

"You don't need to question his ways. You don't know the feller." Johnson said.

"Jeez, I was just asking." Dash said, rolling his eyes.

"Mhm. Anyway, breakfast is ready in the cafeteria. C'mon." Johnson ordered.

"Breakfast? Well, I got nothing better to do." Dash shrugged, throwing his cares aside.

Dash went to lock his door, doing so and pulling it shut, following the grumpy old guard.

"Would you... perhaps..." Dash began.

"Out with it, racer." Johnson barked.

"Would you happen to know how many days I have left? I think it's 20, but I may have... lost count." Dash asked.