The Story of the Truck

Still more useful than advice from strangers on the internet.

The truck's been where it is for a long while, now. I've never been able to get to it from the Flowood side of the river. I rarely visit there. As far as I know, the east side of the river is full of dangerous cannibals, alligators the size of tractor-trailers, and ancient jungle-eaten ziggurats, temples to a fallen god.

I should head over there sometime.

I'm sure there's a story about how it got there. I'd love to find out the truth one day. If you're a reader and know the story of "the truck," use the comments and I will make an exception to my usual "no comments" rule, illegitimi non carborundum.

So, here's my story. The story of The Truck.


THE STORY OF THE TRUCK

by FPJEROME

2001

"I'm getting too old for this shit." Barry said. The truck was bouncing on groaning axles, shooting gravel with every rhythmic push.

"You always say that. You're only 25. You're not old." John said. They were high in the air on the creosote-stained railroad trellis, the thin branches of the trees they were even with were a blur out the window.

The blur was stained red and blue, swathes of bright light that flickered like hyperkinetic lighthouses, giving the forest a neon undergrowth.

"Our love is illegal, Barry." John said as Barry kept the old truck from sliding on the loose gravel. He was struggling to keep the wheels straddling the steel rails without crashing through the flimsy wooden railing.

"But not unconstitutional! Not here! Not like in Hawaii, John!" Barry shouted. He held out his hand.

"This is a standard." John said, not taking Barry's hand.

"Well I'm not doing that Thelma and Louise shit! We're almost out of Jackson!" Barry said, putting his hand back down. The railroad trellis was looming in the moonlight. The cop that was chasing them was crazed, eyes alight behind his aviator frames, envisioning their 10 year jail sentence for their love.

The truck almost lost control, swerved as the rails rose to reach the rusting red steel stretch. Below, the Pearl flowed deep, brown water black in the night.

Behind them, Offizier Tod Buzz slammed on the brakes, his tires spat gravel. No matter how badly he wanted to burst two men for what John and Barry had done, he wasn't about to follow them out onto a death trap.

The tires hit the rails, there was a bark of rubber, a shriek of steel. The truck spun, the passenger side crumpled as it struck the huge rusted span. The whole bridge roared, then there was a moment of quiet, squealing metal.

Officer Buzz did something he rarely did. He took off his sunglasses. He pressed down the sides of his mustache. Ahead, the truck was hanging half off the bridge.

But Officer Tod Buzz was an optimist. That truck was half ON the bridge.  He ran towards them. Godless sodomites or not, Buzz would be damned if they died on his watch. He ran, boots pounding the crossties, and jumped onto the rear of the groaning truck. His weight kept it from pitching forward into the river.

"Come on!" He shouted, hand out towards John in an authoritarian parody of the grasp he had just refused his lover.

John did not refuse this one. Buzz jerked him clear, then threw open the door. Barry was there, a smudge of blood on his forehead. He was woozy, confused.

"Come with me if you want to live." Buzz said, leather-bound hand stretching towards him, reaching.

"I won't go to jail for this." Barry said, crying.

"We're in Flowood. I can't arrest you here. I may be a loose cannon, but I'm a damn fine cop."

"Fuck yeah." John said, grabbing Buzz by the belt as the truck began to slowly lurch over the edge.

There was a momentary rush of airborne cans - Old English, Busch, something called Stroh's, that had been rolling around in the seat of the car for years. The truck gave half a spin and splashed into the dark water, huge bubbles roaring up from the whorls of water as it vanished.

Buzz was hanging halfway off the bridge, Barry dangling in the air, John holding on to the policeman's belt. The three swayed for a moment, flexed, everyone pulled back before laying there on the tracks, panting.

"I'm sure we'll get that truck out of the river soon enough." Buzz said. "Now you two best get going before I have to arrest us all for too much man-love."


...and thus ends the story of the truck. Think it's ridiculous? You could point out how ridiculous this story is, and win some free trash!

Do you know what happened to the truck? Leave a comment!