As I was running out of ideas yesterday, a good friend e-mailed me a link to Story-A-Day, an annual event in May where people aim to write a short story each and every day in response to prompts. I’m going to try this, at least for the days I can’t come up with something nonfiction or if I really like the prompt.
Today’s prompt was provided by Gretchen Rubin.
Lee woke up to bright lights, the sound of moaning, the smell of solvent and a dozen sharp beeps that repeated themselves every few minutes. He looked up and focused his eyes to see an IV bottle with a tube down to his arm.
“Crap. Again.” went through his mind. He ached as he turned his head towards his hospital room door. A six-foot tall dude in blue was visible through the door’s window. “Typical” was his brain’s only response.
Lee searched his memories, as he usually did when he woke up somewhere like here. He remember his good fortune at finding an unlocked Ferrari. He remembered revving up the motor and driving it out of the parking lot of the Chez Malibu restaurant. He thought he remembered a few screams as he gunned the car down towards PCH, then up the coast towards San Francisco. Lee definitely remembered seeing the lights of the pitiful Ford police cars trying to catch up with him. He remembered wanting to show them what a Ferrari could do. After that, things were hazy. Till waking up in the hospital.
It just wasn’t right. Lee fumed. An unlocked car is an invitation to hop in and have fun. Sometimes it was an unconscious invitation. Like the guy who left it unlocked didn’t consciously know he was atoning for his sins of greed. If people didn’t want him to take their car for a spin, they just LOCK IT. Lee had never, ever broke into a locked car. That was totally wrong. If someone locked their car, it was a clear sign they did not want anyone to mess with it. Lee could respect that. Hell, he did respect that. He tried the door handles of something like 50 cars a day and he sometimes went a few days before he found an invitation to drive. He DID NOT like people who broke the social contract. He hated people who would leave their cars unlocked and then call the cops when Lee accepted their plain invitation to drive. People like that were the scum of the earth. Only a creepy sociopath would invite you to drive his car by leaving it unlocked and then call the cops on you if you took him up on his offer. Lee’s jaw clenched as did his fist. He sighed. He wondered if the next judge he was hauled in front of would understand the social contract. He sighed louder. Probably not.