Crash

Leaves brushed past the now still car, steaming from the sudden stop. A fire hydrant now lay a few feet from the mutilated car, where it once stood bursting forth with water, creating the rather peaceful rhythm on the top of the car that awoke me from my crash induced rest. I looked out of the now cracked windshield at the large stream spewing forth from the ground. I shoved open the car door and slunk out of my smashed car, looking back at the wreckage with an awe inspired by the fact that I was fine. Not even a scratch. I made sure I in fact was whole by looking down at myself with the same awe I paid my, now much smaller, car. All eight limbs were intact. I looked up just to make sure both of my nubs where still as nubby as before. Even though I couldn’t see them it felt right. Reaching up I ran my hand though my hair, slicking it back. But just as always it sprang back into its normal unruly fashion. The sound of sirens sounded in the distance, breaking me from my revelry. I turned toward the noise, fixing my tie and straitening my slightly disheveled sweater. Squinting at the noise I remembered I need my glasses, rushing back to the poor excuse for a car I sifted through the wreckage, luckily finding my glasses among sitting next to the accelerator, perfectly unharmed. Placing my glasses on the end of my nose I turned to face a very gruff looking Quigle. He sneered at me making me back up slightly. “This your car?” he questioned with a voice that made me shiver. “No, i-i-it’s a company c-c-car” I squeaked out. He looked at me, and then the car. “You’re going to have to come with me” he gruffled turning to get back into his car that was hovering just behind him. “What have I done” I said, speaking with a boldness that surprised even me. He turned looking at me with a stare that would have scared a grown arctic karflump. I straitened to my full height, which was only about three inches taller than the cop, straitened my sweater and looked him straight in the eyes, putting on my sternest look. I was a college professor after all, and I had every right to know what I had done. “Nothing,” he spoke without blinking “I just need your statement.” He turned to his car and this time I did not question him, following him with foreboding, but compliance.

The cop unlocked the doors and I opened the passenger side out of instinct. “Nu-uh, you ride in the back” he said pointing to the wire mesh that covered the back windows. As I opened the back door a smell wafted over me that made me want to vomit. Looking at the seat was like looking at the insides of a flubit. And I should know what the inside of a flubit looks like. I am a college professor after all. I slid in doing my best not to sit on the most disgusting part of the seat. “Hope you don’t get car sick” the cop said chucking. He started the engine and we were off. I would describe the trip, but I don’t remember much. I might have blacked out a couple times because of the smell and the constant zigging and zagging of the car. My only comfort was that I would get this all straightened out soon. But soon didn’t come soon enough.

When we reached the police station, I spilled out of the back seat, gasping for air like a person that had spent some time without it, which wasn’t too far from the truth. The building loomed above me like some beast waiting to be fed. The cop grabbed my arm and practically dragged me inside the ominous building. When I got inside it was all paper work, sign here, date this, thumb prints and even a CAT scan. I was jostled this way and that, asked every question known to quig and then some. I answered what I could but most of it simply went over my head. Finally they placed me a room with nothing more than a chair and table. The table was covered in locks and restraints. I sat down and a cop with a big mustache entered, he held a donut in one hand while the other wrote on a clipboard. “Name” he spoke in a board voice that sounded like gravel in a blender. “Name” he repeated looking exasperated. “Charles, Ch-ch-charles Windworth” I said, my voice shaking from the ordeal I just went through.  “Occupation” “I’m a professor over at Borth University” “Age” “102” “a little young to be a professor” he said condescendingly, as if I had no place in the education business “Quick study” I  retorted. “What happened at 12:20 this afternoon” “I got in a car accident, I was driving along when a blofich jumped from a tree and smashed into my car, I veered off the road and ran into that fire hydrant. Can I go home now?” “Not yet,” the cop pushed me back into my seat “What was a blofich doing in a tree?” “I don’t know, I’m not a biologist” I said shrugging my shoulders. “Fine,” the mustached man spoke angrily, “We’ll have a police car waiting for you around the front. It will take you back to your house.” We shook hands and I walked out of the police department, still dazed from what I just went through.

When I got home, I opened the door with a creak that came from the many years I had lived in it. My poggle run up to me with a bone clutched in his powerful jaws, his antennae wobbled back and forth as he waddled toward me. I bent down and touched his small body, his ruff fur felt magnificent against my tired hands as I petted him. I grabbed one end of the bone and tussled with him for a while until we both got tired. When I sat down on the couch he bounded onto my lap, got comfortable, then fell fast asleep while I slowly stroked his hairy back. “Today was an interesting day, I tell you” I said leaning into the couch. “I’ll defiantly have to tell this to my class tomorrow.” I yawed and then fell into a deep sleep filled with flying blofich, and spraying fire hydrants.