Chapter Three
Twenty minutes later…
"Jude! Do not do it!"
With my hand on the knob ready to roll down the window Tommy's words put a damper on my action. My mood had dramatically fallen since the whores in the car next to us decided they were going to throw their plastic unevenly silicone filled knockers up in Tommy's face. He was a gentlemen--even though I did see his eyes look down at Slut twos bo-bos. To top it off a hairy old man keeps honking his damn horn at me. I already waved to him dozens of times. Gosh what more could the old geezer want. I draw the line at waving in traffic
"Tommy do you not hear how rude that old man is?" My voice rising in annoyance as I glared through the foggy window at the old man.
"Yeah I can, but I know you," Tommy's hand touched my tense shoulder, "Calm down. He's probably just as annoyed by the traffic as you are."
What the hell Quincy! God you are so dense when it comes to my anger! I am more than annoyed. Traffic is one thing, having a creepy old man honking at me non stop is another subject all on its own.
Beep Beep Beep And there he goes again. Unrolling the window faster than I could blink I winced from the cool breeze that met my body. "Is there something you need?!" I practically yelled to the old man.
"Why wont you let me over?" Grandpa asked. His hair was blowing like crazy from all his windows being unrolled. He really needed to tame that beast growing a top of his big head.
"I tend to ignore rude old men in cars next to mine," I shot back at him. Tommy's hand gripped my shoulder tightly. I believe I heard him curse under his breath. Or was that him saying a prayer?
Beep Beep Beep What the hell! He's staring right at me and he freaking honked his damn car again! If I wasn't driving I would so get out of this car and march over to his window and pull on his hair. I wonder if it is real, I have never seen any mans hair look like that before. Almost a mixture of a mall Santa Claus and Donald Trumps fluff over.
Those movies where kids tug on Santa's beard just to prove he really is a creepy old man who breaks into your house, eats all your cookies and leaves you gifs you did not ask for. I'd be one of them. Me. Tug. Hair. Prove. Point. Creepy. Old. Man. Needs. Hair. Cut.
Beep Beep Beep You old bastard!
I remember when I was seven I was confused about jolly St. Nick being real or not. Sadie had heard rumors around school that he was make believe, I was devastated, well to a certain extent. I began to question everything about him, all the things I sang along to in Christmas songs. How did he fly the sleigh? How did he carry all those gifts with him? Did they magically appear in the sack like they do in Tim Allen's, The Santa Claus? Did Rudolph really guide the other reindeers? Was his nose that shiny? How did it get shiny? Why did we only leave carrots out for him, didn't the other seven get hungry too? If I was bad would I really only get just a lump of coal in my stocking? Did Santa check his list twice, to see who was naughty or nice? If he was watching me all the time did he see the times I picked my nose?
Jamie told me he did. That was one of the reasons he stopped, that and the fact some kid had made fun of him while he was on the playground. Apparently he had been playing tetherball---scratch that, the other kid was playing, Jamester had been digging for gold and wound up getting knocked in the head by the ball. To make a long story short, after being laughed at he made a vow to never pick his nose again. Did that answer my questions about Santa being able to see me? Yes. Did that mean I was being naughty? I wish I knew. Mom and dad always told me to keep my fingers out of any open-ness areas on my body. I didn't.
Beep Beep Beep
"You proved your point already you old fart!" Yelling was useless by this point. Either the old goon was deaf or he found it highly amusing pissing off younger people. He stared at me with his big brown eyes. Maybe he can't see either. "I heard you the first thousand times you honked that piece of crap of yours!"
"Jude!" Tommy hissed beside me. Shut up Tommy. He swore a few more times under his breath while trying to reach over me to roll the window back up.
Pushing his hand away I shot a glare over towards my worst nightmare. Yeah you ugly. His ruby red nose flared, his eyes squinted into tiny slits. Eww, he really was ugly.
Beep Beep Beep
"You going to let me over you dumb broad?" Excuse me?! I would ignore his question, play it off like that one quote, "I saw your lips moving but all I heard was 'blah, blah blah," but he took it one step too far. First of all, his teeth need work. Second no one, I repeat NO ONE calls me a dumb broad and gets away with it. He better look out because Jude is about to open a can of ass kicking no one this side of Vancouver has ever seen. "Usually when someone has their blinkers on it means they want over. But I guess you were too busy making goo-goo eyes at lover boy next to you."
Oh so now he is bringing Tommy into this?
Tommy scoffed. "Did he just call me lover boy?" I'd laugh if I wasn't ready to kill. Chancing a quick glance over my shoulder, Tommy's eyes met mine briefly. Silently he begged for me to keep quiet. No. He called me a dumb broad! Tommy shrugged in response. He called you lover boy. He didn't even refer to you as a man. Come on Tommy let me take him down. You know I can. Tommy smiled faintly. As if he could really see what I was thinking.
"Yes he did." Pressing my right hand against the steering wheel I rejoiced in the sounds of my beautiful car horn blaring; loudly.
La-la-la-la-la-la-la! Beeping the horn several more times to the tune of the "Fa! La, La, La, La's" in Deck the Halls I grinned evilly at Santa.
Tommy snickered in embarrassment and disproval. Ah, screw it. That butt-hole called me a dumb broad. A term I don't very much like. Tommy needs to man up and defend me for crying out loud. First I have to scare off the implant squad, now I have to find some way to get the old goon to disappear. Think Jude think. What to do, oh what to do.
O Christmas Tree. O Christmas Tree.
Where the hell did that come from? Um, think yeah, that's what I am supposed to be doing. Not singing freaking Christmas songs.
Jingle Bells, Batman Smells, Robin laid an egg.
"Why don't you just let the man over Jude?" Tommy questioned. His arms were crossed irritatingly across his chest. He's frustrated? I didn't see him getting called a dumb broad! Even though that would have been hilarious---- if I was in a joking mood of course. Right now I am so the opposite.
Grandma got run over by a reindeer, walking home from our house Christmas eve. You can say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Grandpa, we believe.
I could let the old geezer over. Maybe I should, then he would most likely leave me alone. Peace and quiet once again. I could enjoy the traffic, my sore butt, restless legs, runny nose and Tommy flirting with anything that had a rack.
I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus will do. Don't want a doll, no dinky Tinker Toy. I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy.
"---He'll leave you alone, and we can go back to arguing or flirting, whichever one you want." Tommy continued to speak. Not noticing I had spaced out seconds ago. My bad. "So, which is it?" He asked. His eyes sparkling with mischief.
"I just want a hippopotamus for Christmas, okay?!" I practically yelled. Man I'm trying to think here and he keeps distracting me with his blue eyes. The ones I can get lost in for hours. The same pair that are currently looking at me like I suddenly grew two heads. Uh, what?
"Forget to take your medication this morning pumpkin?"
Huh? Medication? For what?
Tommy raised his hand to my forehead. My eyes following in sick fascination. What is it about this man that has me so completely in awe with every movement he makes? What is it about him that makes my body turn to mush whenever he touches me? Why is my body melting into a dumb puddle at this moment--?-- it can't be the fact Tommy's hand is making the motions like he's checking to see if I have a fever. I'm only burning up because Tommy Quincy just touched me, and I'm not afraid to admit I like it. I like it a lot.
I can see me now on Christmas morning, creeping down the stairs. Oh what joy and what surprise when I open up my eyes to see a hippo hero standing there.
Tommy's hand is still on my head. Breathe Jude Breathe. Think about the hippo song. Think about the hippo song.
"Think about the hippo song," I blurted out. Oh----my----God. I just said that out loud. Covering my mouth suddenly I turned my head to the side to hide the blush creeping up my neck.
"I get it Jude. For some odd reason," Tommy spoke between chuckles, "You want a hippopotamus for Christmas."
Please God, kill me now.
Beep Beep Beep
Not exactly what I asked for. Thanks anyway! Ignoring, or at least trying my best to ignore Tommy's continuous chuckles I glared at the man sitting behind the wheel. With his hands pressed against that damn horn, just waiting to push it again. He was really testing my patience. Each time he pressed that damn thing my sanity took another turn towards the looney bin.
"What is it now you enfeebled mall Santa Claus wanna be nuisance to society?!" Through gritted teeth, each word rolled off my tongue with their own punch.
Wham! Pow! Kaboom! Take that you creepy ancient beast!
Real mature I know. Try being cooped up with the most beautiful man to walk Earth; having him smiling, sleeping, flirting and even pissing you off just about constantly. While at the same time dealing with a car full of plastic male starved bimbos, traffic backed up for miles, cold weather, so cold your nose has turned into a leaky facet (reallllly attractive!) and a creepy old wrinkly man who likes his car horn.
Beep Beep Beep What was I saying about his car horn? Exactly.
You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch. You really are a heel, you're as cuddly as a cactus, you're as charming as an eel. Mr. Grinch, you're a bad banana with a greasy black peel!
"Listen lady, let me over and I'll stop honking at you," Speaking of a Grinch, Santa was speaking to me. I can't hear you! If I try ignoring him maybe he'll go away. "I already missed two of the exits I could have taken. All thanks to you and your immaturity."
Ignoring you. Trying too.
Beep Beep Beep
You're a monster, Mr. Grinch. Your heart's an empty hole.
"Jude look out!" Tommy leaped from his seat. Grabbing hold of the steering wheel he pulled the car roughly to the right.
"What the hell Quincy?!"
I'm having a heart attack. I'm too young to die!
Curing like I've never seen before Tommy kept his hand on the steering wheel, close to mine as he shot daggers out the drivers side window.
"What just happened?"
"That man!" Tommy pointed to the devil himself next to us, "Started getting over in this lane." Pulling his hand away Tommy sat back in the passengers seat.
I think Santa took this game to a whole new level. You can honk at me, you can call me names, but you CANNOT try to kill me and get away with it.
Beep Beep Beep
God. If you are up there. Please forgive me for anything that may happen after this moment.
Beep Beep Beep
I'll go to church more. Or for the first time if you turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the conversation about to happen.
Dragging in a calming breath I allowed him to honk his horn one more time before I eyed his old person car is disgust. "So now you think you own the road because you have a fancy Cadillac?"
Tommy must have heard my prayers because he began to speak from beside me but I was so frustrated by the Santa Claus want-a-be I ignored his ramblings, "And your hot little Mustang deserves to be the only car who can drive in the middle lane?" Grandpa heatedly retorted. His cheeks were so red I almost thought he would croak at any given second.
"No! My Mustang deserves to be the only car in every lane! Whereas your old person car can drive off a cliff." If I were to take a "How mean are you," quiz right now, I think I'd fail in the manners and friendliness sections. However, I would pass with flying colors in the, "Jude can be a bitch," areas.
I am only a bitch when I'm under an intense amount of stress or being harassed by a red-cheeked ogre.
"Crazy lady! You shouldn't even be driving. You have no respect for others," Oh cry me a river. He should be the last one talking about respect. Anyone remember him calling me a dumb broad?
"Respect this," On the count of three I am going to do something. Something I only do when I have no other options. Tommy must know because his eyes just doubled in size. As if in slow motion his head began to shake, his mouth began to move… and the word, "no" was mouthed. Three. Sorry snuggle-boo. Two. This has to be done. One. You'll forgive me later. Right now, I have a bird to flip.
Beep Beep Beep It feels so good being the one to honk first this time. Now that I've gained Santa's attention I quickly waved at him before flashing him the universal sign in saying, "Screw off."
The list of things to do on my road trip look a little different today than what they did when me and Tommy first set off.
Sing Christmas carols along with the radio: Check.
Flirt outrageously with Tommy: Check.
Take down a pack of hoochies: Check.
Flip off and old man, while shoving all respect aside: Check/check.
Beep Beep Beep
No that was not me. Santa honked at someone else. A brunette driving a corvette. Funny thing is, his blinker is still on.
Sighing in exhaustion I glanced over to Tommy. His head was resting against the car cushion, his eyes half open, his mouth parted. Smiling over at him I can't help but wonder what else could go wrong on this trip.