Ensenada, Mexico

As we entered the outskirts of Ensenada, Autumn’s stepmother decided to run red lights. The first one we should have stopped at was manned by two policemen. One of them was the veteran, the other a rookie. The veteran policeman was in the process of training his new recruit how to change the traffic light from green, to yellow, to red. Both of them were looking intently at a small box affixed to the side of a weather-beaten dull grey concrete traffic pole and it became obvious to me the signal was being operated manually rather than on an automatic timer. No matter, that was the first red light we ploughed through. I gripped my seat on either side of my legs with anger. This woman was going to get us into a fat, juicy, broadside wreck. We’d end up seriously injured or killed thanks to her stupidity. When she stopped at a green light and then proceeded to run a third red light, I snapped.

I was sitting right behind her. I reached up around either side of the driver’s head rest with both hands so I could grab her neck and choke the living shit out of her. I was just about to hit paydirt at the last second when Autumn turned her head to look in my direction. Without a sound she lunged at my wrists and forcefully pulled my arms back down towards my lap. Q hadn’t noticed a thing inside the car. He was busy paying attention to the mess out on various streets of Ensenada. The dingbat behind the wheel didn’t seem to notice two hands grasping for her throat, either.

We had been on the road for six hours. All I wanted to do was get to the resort we were staying at and take a big old leak, then get some grub. And hopefully spend the rest of the evening drunk on the beach with Autumn. That was all I wanted. It didn’t seem like a whole lot to be asking of the world and at the same time I realized it didn’t appear what I wanted to happen was going to take place anytime soon. Q was acting as co-pilot and navigator during our journey and he decided he couldn’t remember how to get to the resort we were booked into. He got some directions and a crummy map from a travel agent he did business with but the directions were so vague that he got us a little bit lost.


~ by factorypeasant on October 12, 2005.

2 Responses to “Ensenada, Mexico”

  1. Please, strangler her, please!!

  2. I mean it, the next post best be you with your hands around her neck if you know what’s good for you!


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