out on Route Crazy-cruise. And, of courssse, he'd have to drive all the way out there. Not tonight. Max was tired, and just wanted to go home. Driving toward the strip-mall's parking exit, up ahead was a one of those donation boxes - which sat not far from a gas-n-go. As usual, the metal box - where people could donate "Clothing and Shoes Only - Please" - was surrounded by non-textile...junk basically. One such item was a plastic chair, with half a leg missing; beside that was an old tv - one of those bulky pre-flatscreen ones. And some other stuff.
There at l one end, it, sat a box. Something, Max couldn't explain, bade him to stop. The box was overflowing with, what appeared to be, old books. The cardboard box was half waterlogged, since it had rained somewhat earlier in the day. While the lighting wasn't too great in this particular area, especially with the fog, he somehow recognized, the books were worthy of a quick look. He approached the saggy cardboard, pulled out his phone and clicked it on, to shed enough light.
From what he could see, atleast some of them were Bibles - Real Bibles, not those things are are chock full of commentaries, at the expense of Scripture. He switched off the light, put up the hood of his jacket, opened up the back of his van - and for some reason, the overhead light did not kick on. It had also quit on him a few nights previous - probably had to do with that stupid pot-hole, that probably won't get fixed anytime soon. He made a mental note to either replace the bulb or tighten the connection, or both.
But for now, the power failure was a blessing. He loaded the books, got into his van, and quietly headed home. On the way, he glanced in his rear-view mirror, and just to make sure, he took a different road, then turned onto another, drove all the way out, past the State Park, then headed to town, and finally to his unit - where the books would join the boxes of kitchen and bathroom items he had yet to unpack.
Max really wasn't all that thrilled with the apartment, but considering these end-times, it really didn't matter that the unit was, upon a closer look, rather dingy.
And yeah, he missed the old place, the 1980-ish plastic tables in the common lawn area. But most of all, he missed his land-lady. She was always pleasant, and pleasant people were even more rapidly becoming rare.
He glanced at the Bibles; there were about 20 of them. If he had to move again - and that prospect had begun to take root and grow - he'd grab the Bibles, some clothes, his wallet and phone, and be rolling down the road.
Where? Max wasn't sure. But things were happening fast.
Just the other day, he passed the old apartment complex. Already, the demolition team was on-site. Word was: the few acres would be the future home of Ullr's Castle - some sort of after-hours venue; they were popping up everywhere. How they all stayed in business - considering the overhead, especially the liability, and the damages - was any body's guess.
No comments:
Post a Comment