TotW 176: Chasing Cars - VOTE NOW
Chasing Cars
You have TWO votes which MUST be used.
Submission 1:
Click to view content:I didn’t think I can mess up my life any more. I messed up that too. Dropped out of college for the thrill of it. Spent a year gambling, drinking – all that stuff. Got a rubbish job sweeping Big Macs after people’s lunch breaks finish. Going to get fired for a row with the boss – one of those stuck-up, self-important people that annoy everybody. If there was any reason for me to keep my job, it’s gone now. Stopped off at Subway for something before I’ve no money left, BMT today. I step outside and never mind the BMT, but the BMW. My girlfriend’s car, which I’d borrowed to get here because I’m late, is missing. Only third-hand but I can hardly get her a new one can I? Probably taken so some high-school show-off can impress his mates in some street race.
Now I have no way to the place I’ll get fired, no way home and no money to phone for help. And I’m ashamed to say I’m not even surprised. Can’t turn up tomorrow. Can’t go home and face her. I guess I’m stuck trekking a few miles to my parents and just sit in their garden until the police expect me to pay off some gambling debt. Such is that of this modern climate. Parents won’t turn me down. Dad’ll say how disappointed he is: mum’ll say do the right thing. They can’t talk. They only went and had me at sixteen.
Nothing left to do but turn to drugs. Again. Funnily enough, I had a stable economy back then. Not to mention I was happy. Maybe the peace was most likely illegal but it was still happiness. Everything was simpler then. Buy, siphon, sell, eat, sleep. It worked. I guess that is the power of life isn’t it. You get into a routine and it snatches from under your nose – though I’ve had my fair share of snatching from under others’. Still, stealing my life and not my car are a bit over the top I think. Somebody has it in for me up there but I don’t know anybody. Everyone else has the fortune of living while I barely survive without breaking some law or rule.
Some life this is.
Submission 2:
Click to view content:Nothing is more exciting than the thrill of the hunt. For weeks I had watched my prey from a distance, learning his routine, his habits. He was a marvelous bird, the likes of which I had seen only on occasion before when I was small, weak, and insignificant. But now I had the power and knowledge of an adult, and I would seize my prize through sheer cunning and strength.
The first encounter proved to be ill planned. The climate was not right for the hunt; it was a hot day, with no snow to match my camouflage. Still, a valiant effort on my part was still made, but I underestimated my foe. One wrong step lead to the bird's eyes meeting mine, a stare into one another's very essence. This lasted only a few seconds, but the damage had been done; the bird lifted his marvelous wings and began to race skyward, leaving me alone, sully, on the ground below.
The second attempt, while unsuccessful, gave me new insight into the mind of the beast. It was a calm night, quite calm really. I had left my post unmanned in order to take a brief nap when suddenly the rustling of feathers awoke me from sweet slumber. As I jolted back to the world of the living and rushed to my position I saw the bird closer than ever before. More than that, he was preening! The bird was taunting me! He wanted the challenge of being the prey but found me incapable of being the predator. This I would not stand for, and as the rage a built inside me I began a leaping run towards the avian. The bird, having clearly succeeded in rustling my feathers as it were, began to once again take off. My last lunge at the animal missed by a mere inch as once again my prey eluded me. But his pride and arrogance would be his downfall.
Oh, the sweet, sweet third attempt. Third times the charm, as they say. The weather was perfect; a light snowfall had covered the ground. Not enough to hamper my movements, but just enough to conceal my body. The bird had taken position even closer than before; however, he failed to realize that I had positioned myself away from my usual perch. As he stared at the emptiness that filled my normal position, I quietly made my way to the bird's back. Once he finally realized his error, it was too late for him. I pounced upon his back just as his wings began to unfold, clinching my sharp teeth around his neck. It was only a matter of time before he would be dead, and I would carry my prey across the garden back to my windowsill. Truly, nothing is more splendid than hunting.
Submission 3:
Click to view content:As a youth, I would race through the halls of my great uncle Julius' villa. They were massive halls, unlike the halls of the villa of my stepfather, Lucius. I am glad that Lucius showed me disdain, in my youth, or perhaps I wouldn't have been introduced to this world of splendor, to which I owe my true upbringing.
Great uncle Julius was far more of a father figure than Lucius had ever been, to me. Had it not been for my great uncle Julius, I may not have obtained all in which I now hold dear. The bond, the close connection we shared led to the establishment of my great empire, and growing power. The base of this mighty empire, was constructed only by the brilliant political maneuvers Julius had made for himself.
He made fellow senators his puppets, and the senate forum, the stage. Playing one against another, all the while, he enshrined his influence abroad, over the legions, where the true power of Rome lies. Foolish were they to be so blind, when right before them, some senators, such as my great uncle Julius, and the once thought villainous, but now misunderstood Pompey, whom both enhanced their holds on power. It was only a matter of time, before they would have clashed with one another. They were the mightiest of men in the Republic, and quite possibly the entire Mediterranean.
Even now, as I sit, in the garden of my uncle, the great Julius Caesar, unchanged by the years since his unfortunate, and dastardly assassination, by such malevolent miscreants. For him, I keep it pure. The constant upkeep that I see necessary, to keep it in the image he left it, and as I remember it, from my youth. Memories of a time once thought unending. This is my carefree haven. It is here where I can forget the constant annoyances of a needy senate. Taking in small, but frequent sifts of air, fresh as they were fifty years ago, as unchanged in perfection, as the alabaster pillars, that line themselves around this courtyard.
I look at my red hands, and my mean face, and I feel the scars of age, having crept upon me so silently in the countless nights long yore. I look back at those furious days, and I ponder about the powerful men, whom once stood before me, and were swiftly cut down. The change in the senate, noticeable, these last thirty years. The political climate indeed has been cooled, in recent years. I have forged the unification of a strong, and determined people.
The first of my ruling house, none can deny my achievements. My vengeance on those who would incite treasonous, and despicable acts upon my family. Alas, the challenges, and the trials and tribulations endured, which once brought such pain, such unpredictability, and sometimes, an odd thrill, are all but a distant memory. A memory that I, nor any that come after, shall ever forget.
Imperator Caesar Divi F. Augustus
Submission 4:
Click to view content:Chasing Cars
What was that saying? “Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun”, well given he was an English bulldog then he was certainly qualified but he was beginning to think that the saying wasn't granting permission to who could be out, rather who was lacking in the necessary intelligence to be out right now, probably all that climate change that they spoke of!
He steeled himself bulldog spirit and all that, but damn it was hot and the shade under the old chestnut tree did look extremely inviting today. He had spent many a comfortable hour lying in the garden under the tree with one eye watching the World, making desultory moves to chase next door's cat and growling enthusiastically at any delivery van that had the temerity to race down the street. The mailman had learned long ago that the shade had to be checked carefully before delivering the mail.
Notwithstanding the lure of the shade tree, a dog had to do what a dog had to do, and today, that nasty little yappy terrier at number twenty three had challenged him to a car chase so he had to stand in the sun waiting for the right car. Now he thought about it, Bruce had an idea that the terrier made him stand here and wait for the car so he got hot, bothered, sapping his energy for the upcoming race. Just as he started to consider he had been duped, she turned from Elm onto Oak, old Mrs Docherty peering over the wheel of her ancient open top Cadillac and weaving slightly at a steady ten miles an hour.
Bruce trotted to the gate and knocked the latch up with his nose and edged forward to the kerb, taking a look back down as the car trundled down the road he got ready to take a flying leap after her, all the power he could muster ready to push himself after her. The race was to beat her car to the third lamp-post on the left, cock your leg on said lamp-post and back to the starting point before she reached the end of the road and turned up Pine.
The terrier was faster and should really win the race, but Bruce knew Jimmy would do what he always did and carry on chasing her car past the lamp-post and all the way along Pine as she threatened to send him to the glue factory. Every time they had these races it was the same by the time they reached the lamp-post, Jimmy consumed by the thrill of the chase and Bruce ambling back to his shade. Oh happy day!
Submission 5:
Click to view content:Doglike Viewpoint
Cars were too fast. Cars were meh. Chasing cars was not something Pluto would be spending his time with anymore. Bikes, however… Bikes were good, bikes were easy to chase. Almost like squirrels, only bikes didn’t run up into the trees and hide there. Pluto didn’t like it when squirrels did that. Pluto liked to race though, he liked to sprint all he could, chase a car, a bike, a squirrel, a newspaper-boy, a mail-man, chase that grumpy old women who lived two houses away, chase a cat, chase one of those sticks. Yes, there was an undeniable thrill in chasing. Oooh, a fly. Gardens were nice for chasing, that’s for sure. There was lots of nice space, lots! And there were squirrels. And bikes. But no cars. Cars weren’t meh. Cars were fun. But they were hard to chase.
[FONT="]Pluto didn’t like cars. Is it dinner? I think it’s dinner. Pluto had power in his legs, he could run fast. Almost as fast as a car. Chasing cars was fun. Bikes were easier. But bikes fell. And the bikers cried. That was not so fun. Not always, anyways. Rain was good climate for chasing. When it rained there weren’t many bikes, though. Only cars. Not even squirrels. Squirrels sat in their trees. It was their home. Pluto had a home too. A small house. It was nice to have when the rain was white. Very nice. But rain was good chasing weather. In rain, Pluto didn’t get too warm. Too warm wasn’t good. Then he had to go under a tree. And then there was squirrels. Too warm wasn’t good. Pluto liked chasing cars.
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