A/N: So my muse to write my stories is not cooperating with me, so I decided I'd write a drabble to help coax it out of hiding. This takes place in the Christine fandom. I've been digging the story of the original Stephen King novel and film, and the Christine section of could use some new material. And so here we are. The drabble's really short, but I thought it would be a nice look into what Christine was thinking after the whole events in the film.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Stephen King is the rightful owner of the fabulous Plymouth Fury AKA Christine.
She couldn't believe it.
He was gone…in the blink of an eye. Tossed out of her window like a fish out of water and then stabbed in the abdomen. The precious blood bursting from his stomach was a sight she'd never forget. But the worst of it all was when he stroked her, long enough to admire her beauty one more time before dying, his last breath leaving his pale body.
And the next thing she knew?
She was compacted into a tiny cube, no thanks to those Benedict Arnolds of Arnie's, Dennis and Leigh.
They trapped her and managed to drag her metallic body to a car crusher, where her once beautiful metal body was now a measly piece of worthless garbage. The two losers were standing in one piece with the police detective, mourning over the damage that was done.
How could they get away with this?! This was so unfair.
Her lover was dead, she was crushed into a metal square and those two twerps were free to go?!
Worst. Day. Ever.
Fin.