Send Me on My Way

My lone star’s Mustang was idling on the side of the road.  A rusted, bandicoot mascot sat all forlorn atop the hood.  I opened the trunk and saw a pair of hockey skates.  A dark gray puppy was napping in a picnic basket and a gecko was licking its lips.  I stepped into dark blue overalls and moistened a cloth to wipe down the one head light, tinted blue to match my lone star’s birthmark bruise.  I asked him where he would like to eat dinner, he rubbed the driver side door of his car, as if to sing it a lullaby while we waited for triple A.  Triple X was unavailable.  Lullaby, my child, it could take a while.   I asked him again where he wished to eat; I chose last time.  Once more he put a reassuring caress to his car.  I took my lone star’s face in my hands and smiled.

Some day, I’d like to say, “This Mustang saved my life.”


The above is  a work of fiction that came to me while watching the local news.  CBS Atlanta — they ask the tough questions!

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