A flashback of childhood memories rolled through his drowsy, yet prehensile, mind. He was a child again, and presents were piled like jeweled scree against the tree.
Floppy (the horse) wore a red ribbon in her mane and Flip, dressed like a sugar plum fairy, wagged his tale hysterically under his tutu. (Beats dog antlers) And somewhere, yes, there would be Ma and Pa in their old rocking chairs.
Pa would say, “GAS wot?” He’d chuckle, sniffing upwind and spitting downwind, “Harry’s a coming.”
Then, Ma’s loquacious answer: “Yup”.
THERE WASN’T A SECOND TO LOSE!
Throwing on an old lab coat, Harry leapt into the driver’s seat deftly adjusting the antimacassar across the back of the beaded seat.
A quick check for extra wires leading to bombs was negative.
He pressed the starter button, thrilling as the whine of the starter motor was replaced by the clatter of her mighty V8 diesel! (2000 Hp at 4500 RPM, 6000 torque at 4000 RPM, each horse the equivalent of an English gravitational unit of 500 foot/pounds of work per second!)
To be continued…
2 comments:
I always thought that word was "anticassimar." Ya learn something every day.
Better than me...I didn't even it had a name.
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