Eisley Jacobs -

Today I was out gallivanting around town… Okay. Maybe I was really just running errands… but I like gallivanting much more then I like errand running.

Beside the point… While I was out I came across this awesome van. See exhibit A.

You can’t tell in the picture but this was an awesome van. The dents in the side. The bumpers all mashed up… Heavy metal stickers all over the back and window. And the dude behind the wheel, didn’t look like he belonged there! At the stoplight… I see some small punctures in the gate at the back… is that… BULLET HOLES?!?!

*GASP*

Cue writers mind… and back story pondering. And more pondering… still more.

Enter Flash Fiction for today:

Colin ran his fingers down the length of the bumper, tracing the massive dent pressed into the rusted metal. The way that SUV had charged him, it’s a wonder how the bumper was still attached.

He laughed. A similar dent adorned the front bumper. Last month, he hadn’t taken into consideration the tab he might incur parking in a paid lot for seven days. He hadn’t brought any cash and he wasn’t about to give them his credit card to be pegged anywhere near that location. The arm on the security gate snapped in two when the rust colored 1988 Toyota Liteace he’d picked up back in Denver barreled through it.

He wasn’t an outlaw, quite the contrary. The law paid him… well at least that is what he told himself. The steel voice on the phone reassured him every time he got a new assignment that he worked for government. But he knew better, the less he knew, the better off he was.

Colin reached into his back pocket and pulled out a Metallica sticker. The last five he’d stuck to the back gate to cover bullet holes. This one was just because he liked even numbers. He stepped back and looked over the van. He didn’t know how long this piece of metal would hold out. He estimated with the damage done from the last confrontation that he might only have one more head to head before he would have to find another vehicle to destroy.

The cell phone on his hip roared to life, bringing his admiration for his stickers to a close.

“Yeah?” His deep surly voice echoed through the dry air.

The voice on the other side was cold and quick, “We need you in Vegas, tonight.”

“On my way,” he said and disconnected the line. He flipped the keys in his hand and grinned at the dent in the driver’s door. He needed one to match on the other side.

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