Anita's Haven

books, thoughts, stories, poetry, interviews, writing

DUEL – Wolf Schimanski accepted my challenge

on 27/02/2015

Sharing Wolfgang’s story here, with his kind permission. Nice having such a distinguished guest!

Here is Anita Kovacevic’s pic and my response to her challenge. Cheers!  

image

The Old Classic Gypsy Cab

The old Gypsy cab stood abandoned in an alley way in Toronto’s east end. In the upper Beaches you might say, the lower Beaches being a little bit closer to Lake Ontario. The odd thing was no one had noticed when it arrived or who had left it there. The vehicle had a white top, possibly a convertible with a blue body and looked to be from the 1950’s. And it was in mint condition, not a scratch on her.
The neighborhood kids that played in the area came close to look but for some inexplicable reason did not come closer than a few feet from the car. It was as if some unknown force field surrounded the car and kept everything and everyone away from it. Local squirrels, cats, racoons and other critters stayed well clear. Something deep within their animal souls was telling them to stay clear.
The vehicle was not blocking any access to garages, gates, etc. so even though the people that lived adjacent to this laneway knew the vehicle was there, they kind of ignored it. They went on with their daily lives of getting up, getting the kids and themselves ready for school and work and repeated that cycle the next day and the day after that.
Even the pigeons and sparrows and other birds that constantly relieved themselves on anything that was and was not in their flight path, plotted courses away from this mysterious vehicle. So the pristine car remained that way until one day in mid- summer of the year 2015, a gang of neighborhood hoods decided to invade this laneway for some drinking, drug smoking and other unsavory activities.
The leader of this group of malcontents called himself Big Joe. He wore leather pants, black boots and a leather vest that indicated he was down with the Sons of Anarchy. His face was pock –marked and his hair was shaggy, greasy and his big belly hung over his tight pants jiggling not merrily with every step. His second in command was Ratso, a skinny wisp of a punk with eyes that blazed like coal fires. The third in this motley group they just named Tag. Because everywhere that Joe and Ratso went, Tag tagged along.  And to round off this group of model citizens was a lady who was anything but with a handle of Court. Her real name was Courtney but it got truncated quickly in response to the favors she provided on the local basketball court after hours. Court was there for the party and to keep the group happy. They provided the drugs and booze, she provided herself and quite frequently at that.
Imagine the surprised looks on these ingrates faces when a classic looking gypsy cab was sitting right in their favorite party spot under a shady maple tree. Saying that this rag tag band of biker wannabees was not happy would be an understatement. So big Joe looked the situation over and ordered Tag to key up this fine looking ride a bit. Why? Because they could of course… and who was going to stop them.  They should have asked not who but what as Tag was much too dumb to ignore the warning he received to stop and not come any nearer. He thought it was just a head rush from the crack they all smoked an hour ago and proceeded to step over the invisible border, set of keys in hand ready to carve a logo of his own design into the beautiful vehicle.
What happened next was truly astounding as a hand attached to a translucent arm appeared and grabbed our friend Tag, lifted him right up off the floor and threw him full force against the nearest fence with a force so terrible it snapped Tag’s scrawny neck like a twig. The rest could not believe their eyes. Court ran over to Tag and screamed as Tag’s head was hanging limply at his side hardly supported by the neck that connected the two at all. Big Joe, like the fearless leader he was and the coward for that matter, sent Ratso into the fray. But Ratso had not survived on the streets of Toronto for all this time to meet the same fate as that dullard Tag and beat a hasty retreat back to the mouth of the alley.
Big Joe, now alone with a frantic Court and a dead Tag, pulled out his totally illegal handgun and started peppering the car with bullets. But the bullets never struck the car; instead they just seemed to drop like they hit a bullet proof wall…which in fact they did. Except for one which ricocheted and imbedded itself right into Joe’s frontal lobe dropping him dead like a stone.  Court had seen enough and she took off faster than a sprinter with a case of the runs and her torn up fish net stockings could carry her. And the Old Classic Gypsy cab remained right where it was until its unearthly driver decided to move it to another location.  If you were to ask Court or Ratso, they would most likely tell you to “Let Sleeping Cabs Lie”. If they could get the words out after what they had just seen!

Wolf Schimanski’s book on Amazon

Anita Kovacevic

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One response to “DUEL – Wolf Schimanski accepted my challenge

  1. Lizzi Newton says:

    Absolutely brilliant. Watch out Stephen King, you have serious competition here!

    Like

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