VamZombie WereWitch Girl and Demon Boy

6 - Confessions

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-November 24, San Diego CA-

‘No show no call’ suspended two days they say.  Yeah, my boss didn’t believe the whole “my car was smashed and that’s why I couldn’t make it” splurge.  Said I should have called about it when it happened yadda yadda.  I knew I was busted yesterday when at four thirty something I got the deathly ‘call-from-work’ wondering where the hell I was.

Yeah, to be perfectly honest letting them know I probably wouldn’t be able to make it was the least of my worries.  The most expensive thing I ever bought was just totaled by a beast I thought I had been hallucinating.  I looked over the entire vehicle, it was crushed completely, no hope of repair.  There was no way my insurance would cover it all—if any, what am I going to tell them, “Yeah, a meteor fell out of the sky and hit my car, then it rolled five blocks and buried itself so you can’t find it.”  Yeah.  All they’re gonna see is a completely crushed car with no explanation.  Will they pay up on that? God knows.

Even so that’ll be a nightmare in itself.  I simply don’t have the money to buy another car and a ten minute drive on the highway translates to something like two hours with public transportation.  How the hell am I going to get to work—how the hell am I going to get home around midnight when the busses stop running?  I’m screwed.

Damn you Aleniese.  Why does it always have to be the car?  Mr. Stevens lended me his car-cover for the wreck yesterday saying that if the landlord saw that he’d have me fined and kicked out for keeping the junk pile there, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to remove it until one of the insurance reps came out to inspect the damage.  Apparently inspections on totaled cars are not top priority so the guy won’t come out till tomorrow.  But you know, it’s okay—I have the fucking day off.

In other news it’s been two days since Rebecca came over, she hasn’t called or texted and likewise neither have I.  It must be the pregnant word I threw out, how do I deal with that?  Hell, I haven’t even told her my car was totaled by the beast that said I’d impregnate her.  I probably should actually, maybe if she came over and inspects the damage she’d believe me. In fact, I’ll call now.  It is early afternoon so she shouldn’t be at work.

 I pull out my phone, hoping two days is enough time and dial.  She picks up on the second ring, “Hello?” good she’s off work.

“Can you come over?” I ask, hoping I’m not being too forward.

“Sure, be there in twenty.”

“Thanks, I want to talk about—”

“I know me too.”  She hangs up.

I quickly speed into my room and shuffle through my drawers. This time I have advanced warning.  Twenty minutes later I actually have my short hair brushed back, a plain black shirt on, and dark jeans.  Showered and a lot more presentable than a few nights ago I open my front door to the sound of her car pulling into my spot.

I go to meet her in the spot.  This time she’s not in her work outfit, which greatly tones down any beauty with its baggy thick red shirt and black loose slacks.  She’s how I like to see her, street clothes.  Her white pants are short going only about half way down her calves and she has a yellow blouse on with frills at all the ends.  Her hair is loose down her back and combed straight, none of that just taken out of a bun mess I saw a few nights back. 

She smelled lovely and flashed me a smile as she stepped out saying, “Where’s your car?” I know she expected to park on the street, since it is mid-day and there’s no reason for me to forfeit my spot.  I point to the covered heap across the road, “Oh you got a cover?”