Luna Comes Home by Dowman Couch

Author:Dowman Couch [Couch, Dowman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Clyde called the Taurus his ’’ stealth car’’. From the outside, all dented and rusted, it looked like a piece of junk. He had a top mechanic in Indiana replace the transmission and motor, using the most powerful one that would fit under the hood. The car looked like crap, but it was deceptively powerful, and had always been reliable. He had to wait until eight o’clock in the morning to get it towed to the garage, where he had waited an additional two hours for someone to look at it. The burly mechanic, with’’ Dale’’ written on the pocket of his coveralls, had been working on it for several hours now, checking out one thing after another. It was now 2:12 in the afternoon and Clyde thoroughly disgusted with the world. Skippy was talking with another mechanic, ’’So, the Lone Ranger has just finished telling Tonto that he’s got cancer, but has decided not to get any treatment for it. Tonto looks at him and goes,’’ So, no chemo, sabe?’’ Skippy starts over to the Taurus, wiping his hand on a rag. He is a tall, skinny specimen, his long, grey hair in a ponytail half-way down his back, wearing thick glasses in heavy black plastic frames. ‘’Yo, Dale, get this dude. I’m taking a piss this morning and suddenly I think, hey, how come they call it urine, when it comes out? I mean shouldn’t they call it……?

‘’Uh, ur..out?’’ ventured Dale.

‘’Oh, hell no, ump, he was safe!’’

‘’What?’’

‘’What’s on second, who’s on first?’’

‘’Huh?’’

‘’Fuck it, dude. Now, what do we got here?’’

Clyde walked away, more disgusted than before. Fucking idiots are cracking stupid jokes on his time. By now, his precious Luna could be anywhere. He was furious at that Russian, or Ukrainian, or whatever that damned foreigner was, who had sold him the tracking system. It was supposed to be state of the art stuff, the same kind of satellite technology that they advertised as being able to track your car anywhere, and it wasn’t working right! All down the road, he had had to keep the Ford pick-up in sight while trying not to be obviously tailing them.

Skippy had been talking to Dale for some time now, obviously asking him what he’d tried before, and the results. He went to the rear of the car, and told Dale to start the engine. As Dale climbed in the driver’s seat he exclaimed, ’’Jesus Christ! What the fuck stinks in here? Hang on, I gotta roll down the windows…..’’

‘’Uh, sorry about that, uh, I forgot to roll up the window the other night and a stray cat must have gotten in, sorry…..’’ Clyde stammered.

Dale had already seen the yellow liquid in the mason jars.’’ Whatever you say, chief.’’ He started the motor, which died directly. ’’Got it,’’ said Skippy. He walked over to Clyde. ‘’Mister, you’ve gone and got your exhaust system clogged somehow. Could be a field mouse or something crawled up in there and died or something. Gonna have to put it up on the lift, and drop your exhaust system to check it out.

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