BLOOD ON THE ASPHALT
a Tales of Young Daria story
by Galen Hardesty




Saturday, May 19, 1991
Gaithersburg, Maryland


Rufus Herrington, 'Red' to his drinking buddies, was running late. He'd fallen through the damn hole in the damn floor of his decrepit old trailer again. Now he'd have to scrounge a bigger piece of plywood from somewhere. The game would be starting soon, and Rufus never missed the start of an Orioles game. He considered it his patriotic duty to be on his stool with a beer in front of him for the singing of the National Anthem. He eased the go-pedal down a little.


Not far away, eight-year-old Daria Morgendorffer walked down the steps of the library and turned her steps homeward. Her mother had told her to be home in time to join her for a late lunch, which probably meant she was going to be working late. Daria considered trying to explain to her mother that you weren't supposed to work on Saturday, but she wasn't sure whether it was illegal or just immoral.


Rufus had started getting pre-lubricated before he'd set off from his trailer, both to put himself in the proper sporting mood for today's game, and to save a little money. If he didn't start drinking till he got to the Oriole's Nest, he'd be broke before he got a decent buzz on. Crappy low-paying loader's job at a crappy smelly produce warehouse. It was like that guy had said. Work was the curse of the drinking class. He smirked as he took a pull at the bottle of Old Turkey Buzzard.


Daria walked along the shady sidewalk. In her backpack she carried Winnie the Pooh, a book she'd heard good things about and decided to try, Horton Hears A Who, by Dr. Suess, who'd never disappointed her, and a book about a girl called Madeline, about which she knew nothing. Those three should be enough to get her through the rest of a weekend of Mom working, Dad watching sports on TV, and whatever brain-dead activities Quinn might engage in.


Rufus screeched to a stop at a stop light, terrifying the woman in the car in front of him. With what he considered admirable restraint, he refrained from honking and swearing at her. If she hadn't been there in the way, he'd have gone on through. Rufus felt it was unmanly to stop just because a stupid light said so, as if the light were smarter than he was. He could see that there was no cross traffic. A black sedan crossed the intersection in front of them. Well, just that one car.


Daria took a shortcut through an empty lot between two houses. The lot had neatly mown grass and well-tended flower beds, which made Daria suspect that it was owned by the owners of one of the two adjoining houses. One of the trees in the lot would have mulberries soon, she noticed. Daria wondered if anyone would mind if she picked a few in passing when they got ripe.


The light changed and the woman in front of Rufus made a quick right turn, probably to get out from in front of him. Decent of her, he thought. Saved him the trouble of passing her. Rufus hated to drive behind anybody. It cramped his freedom to maneuver, and they might do something unexpected at any time, and he might get a reaction-time test he couldn't pass. He much preferred having plenty of empty road in front of him, and he considered it a safe driving practice to pass cars until he had it. Rufus sideswiped a mailbox while trying to get the cap off the bottle of Old Turkey Buzzard again. Oops. Damn stupid mailboxes were too close to the street, anyway.


Daria neared Iroquois Street. Mom seemed to think it was an interstate or something. Whenever she went out and Mom was around, Mom would warn her to be careful crossing streets, always look both ways, and be particularly careful crossing Iroquois Street. She was like a broken record. Didn't she realize Daria was almost nine?


Rufus swore as a light turned red ahead of him. Teakettle it! Didn't the teakettling teakettle stop light know that the Orioles-Angels game was about to start? Rufus slowed somewhat as he neared the intersection, glanced to right and left, then blasted on through.


Daria reached the edge of the dreaded (by her mom) Iroquois Street, beside a bush, which she remembered had been covered with beautiful reddish pink flowers a month or two ago. Be especially careful crossing Iroquois Street, Mom always said. You'd think she thought a band of bloodthirsty Iroquois warriors was going to come whooping up in a pickup truck and scalp and murder her. It was just stupid. Daria stepped out from behind the bush into the street.


A wave of dizziness sloshed through Rufus's brain. Just as he blinked and rubbed his eyes, the sound and jolt of an impact startled him, followed by a bump-bump as the oversized, tractor-treaded tires of his pickup ran over something. The dizziness was dispelled by a surge of panic-driven adrenalin. Rufus looked in his rear-view mirror. There was something lying in the street behind him. Something mostly red. And there was something in his mind telling him that he didn't want to know what it was. Rufus very badly wanted to be at the Oriole's Nest sports bar right now. He sped on, suddenly cold sober.