Hitchhike

04 | awkward rides

04 | Douglas

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                     THE RIDE IS silent.

                     All I hear around me is the sound of upturned soil as the wheels pass by it. Right now, I’m taking the nearest shortcut to get to my apartment in the heart of the city because I can’t be bothered to stay out in this time without actually losing my sanity.

                   I want to think I’m intoxicated. That way, it would make sense why a. . . naked dude with Japanese horror hair is sitting beside me, pointing a sharp looking dagger at my sides while glaring an equally sharp looking glare. This has been the same scenario for atleast 30 minutes now. Being intoxicated would also pacify my paranoid brain into having to avoid explaining to Ken why his Prius suddenly looked like it came out of a Fast and Furious movie.

                    It’s not like I could just casually stroll in and say, hey Ken guess what I wrecked your car dude! But I didn’t mean it because I nearly rammed your car into a naked dude and fought my way out of a bear who was supposedly sent by someone named Artemis.

                    I could get punched for that shit. Just thinking about it is already making me anxious. Jesus, I wish I was intoxicated. But I’m not, this feels all too fucking real. My life has just been a huge bitch before this after finding out that my dad is dying from my manipulative mother — and now this dilemma is piling on top of that dilemma, turning my life into some sort of crappy soap opera.

                    My eyes gloss over the dashboard. 12:30 a.m. the time reads. I’m feeling the aftermath of adrenaline and intoxication mixing in my insides. I also remembered that I took an extra hour at the diner today. I am sleep deprived, tired, exhausted — and I’m chaperoning a serial killer in my bestfriend’s car. Thank God it was Sunday tomorrow or I wouldn’t have made it out alive. No joke.

                    “Where are you from,” I decide to start a conversation. This silence is killing me.

                      Without taking his eyes off me, Goldilocks opens his mouth to say,

                      “Olympus, home of the gods and goddesses.”

                       My lips form a thin line. I almost screamed in frustration. This is pointless. Why am I even making a conversation with this ladyboy? He’s obviously not right in the head. The fact that he has red eyes in the first place is already an indication that he was mentally unstable.

                      However, as an act of self-preservation, I decide to go along with him.

                      “So Olympus huh, isn’t that where Antenna lives?”

                       Victoria’s Secret scrunches up his nose again, doing that adorable, squirel like pout. If I haven’t witnessed this man’s psychopathic tendencies, I wouldn’t have hesitated in calling him cute. . . no homo though.

                      “I beg your pardon?”

                      “You know Antenna, goddess of war and wisdom. Heard she can be a total bitch,” I laugh, I know Antenna isn’t really her real name, but I also actually forgot what it was. “She’s also the daughter of that thunder god, what was his name again. Zoo?”