The Mayonnaise Murders, Chapter 3, Scene 2

TMM1 Single Cover

The ever-fashionable Mr. Deep Cluck screeched past us so fast it yanked Vee’s hairdo outta kilter, and that was one powerful `do. She flipped him a finger signal and made like she was gonna chase him down on foot. That’s when I grabbed her by the shoulder and reminded her we were about to be road kill unless she tossed her butt back in the driver’s seat. She yanked her shoulder away, then stormed back into the transport lookin like she was fixin to pull it apart. I ran around to my side and jumped in before she started the engine, figuring she wasn’t in the mood to wait for anybody.

Next thing I knew, my head was slammed against the back of the seat as Vee stomped on the power overdrive pedal. Then, like that wasn’t enough juice, she decides to yank the maxi-thrust bar. Wonderful.

“When’d you uhhh, fortify the machine?” I asked, feeling my neck starting to strain from the force of the pressure shoving my head back against the seat.

“Not long. Had to do it, though. Single female page scratcher, you know? Gotta have a little extra comfort under the hood just in case an angry source decides to try and run you down, hey?”

“You call this comfort?”

“Just a few more seconds, sweety. I’m making sure to leave `em in lotsa dust. Look back there for me would you? To see?”

“Vee, I can barely move my lips to talk from all this speed pressure, so you oughta know I damned sure can’t turn my head all the way around. You wanna see if they’re back there, you slow this rocket down.”

“You little wimpie.”

“Nice hair.”

“Say that again, hey? I’ll eject you straight out the side door, I swear I will.”

“No, really. It’s got that rustic, windswept look. You oughta keep it like that. Start a trend. Be famous.”

“You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?”

“I even got a name for it. Scratcher Doodle Do.”

“That’s it.”


Well I’ll be damned. That’s honestly what I was thinkin as I felt myself flyin outta the car into space. You’d think when somethin like that happens to you, you’d feel a kind of panick, but naw, it wasn’t that way. Just an I’ll-be damned-she-did-it kinda feeling. And she must really be pissed off.

When I landed, I came down hard, then started rolling over and over for quite awhile. Since she shot me out the side door instead of out the top – most transports eject out the top, but not Vee’s – I didn’t come down straight.

I remember Vee saying one time she had her transport ejector seat redone that way because she figured it’d make the landing a lot more complicated. That’s the word she used. Complicated. Once I finally came to a stop the word `complicated’ didn’t come to mind, but I didn’t have long to ponder word games because the front lights of the transport that’d been chasing us  was about a click down the road and eatin up ground like starvation. Even though it was dark as the belly of midnight where I was layin, it was still close enough to the road where if those lights managed to make a wide enough sweep for any reason then they’d be sure to catch me lyin there. I was pretty sure they hadn’t seen me get my butt rocket-launched out of the transport, but you never know about these things. The only problem with where I’d landed was that there wasn’t anything around me but flat land. And there wasn’t enough time to make my way anywhere else without the risk of bein seen. So I just stayed there, stretched out like I was doin somethin obscene to the territory, watchin as the mobile flew by, then disappeared in the distance. Once I was satisfied the sound was far enough away, I stood up and looked around.

And realized I couldn’t see a damned thing.



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