The Unexpected Result of An Unexpected Choice

In response to a challenge from this guy and this gal regarding this post. (Fiction)

“‘scuse me, dis is not my car.  It tis my son’s car and I cannot open dis.”  I finally get his attention.

These Americans. So busy. I know he can see me try to open stupid little gas cap door.

I muddle accent on purpose. Doesn’t matter. Americans all think they know where we are from by our talk. Other day, this redhead, she said, “So, I bet you are from Czech Republic?” Sure, sure. Why not? No one can ever place my speech, but I move a lot. So. I pick up a lot of the accent.

Soon I will get rid of this rusty bucket. My son says car is jalopy. I think jalopy is pepper. I like rusty bucket better. Once mission is done, I go home.

Busy Americans never want to help or it would be over already. Finally. We have winner. Coming to rescue immigrant grandma. Eblan.

I wrap coat tighter. You think it’s cold here? Try Siberia. Ukraine. Minsk. Moscow. I watch him scan my face for…what? My age? Ha. He will never guess. No one does.

I watch him watching me. He is tall. American food makes tall boys. Tall but not big. He needs potatoes. Stiff Moldovan wind would blow him down, I think.

He looks at driver door. Door? Why would gas cap be in door? I don’t know. He folds into car. Almost in half, I think. Ha, this balvan will hit his head. Well, that’s nothing. Just wait.

Then I notice. His foot, outside car. Tapping. This moodozvon likes my music. This is problem. How can I push button if he likes Nikita K’s Best Party MixTape 2? I think I have to push button. Walk away. Quick. Push button.

But no, he hums. He taps wheel, looking. I can not decide. Push button? Don’t push button? He grins through open window.

“Hey, this unicorn air freshener is great. Where’d you get that? I know a guy who really needs one for his handlebars. D’you remember where you bought it?” He laughs. Handlebars? I sigh. He likes unicorns? How can I push button now?

He finds gas cap lever. Finally. I thought we would stand all day, not pushing button.

He even pumps gas for me. Only a little, I say. Not much money. He nods.

He walks away, back to car with bike rack. Oh. Handlebars. Wait. He didn’t like unicorn. Thinks unicorn is joke. Chort tzdbya beeree! Swine. I should have pushed button.

But. He likes music. Okay. You live today. But tomorrow. Tomorrow is different story.

Vlad say, we have to get noticed. We don’t have to take it. I put detonator back in little box. I drive. I look for next mark. I sing with Sisters, bang on wheel.

Yep. Next time, before I push button, I pull Nikita K’s Best Party MixTape 2 out of car first.
***
Nikita was good boyfriend. I should keep mix tape. I sing loud.
*** 

We’ve got the right to choose and

There ain’t no way we’ll lose it

This is our life, this is our song

We’ll fight the powers that be just

Don’t pick our destiny ’cause

You don’t know us, you don’t belong

We’re not gonna take it

No, we ain’t gonna take it

We’re not gonna take it anymore

***
p.s. All Russian expletives are, as far as my research took me, mild. If you look them up and they’re really awful…my bad.
p.p.s. you can find LittleLearner’s response to the original post here. I like hers, too. Great characterization.

About Casey

Adoption = my life. I'll give it to you straight. Success, failure, truth.

Posted on March 22, 2015, in Writing is fun, Writing101 and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. Oh, my goodness! Different as night and day!

    This is brilliant! I’ll bet you scare that tall American into not helping little old Eastern European women with pumping gas anymore!

    You have such a strong and consistent voice in all of your pieces. I am dazzled by your brilliance! 🙂 Don’t ever stop writing! And your light needs to shine. You MUST be published! I want to see you in print!

    Liked by 3 people

  1. Pingback: Love Affair with Fonts | Adoption =

  2. Pingback: Love Which Serves | little learner

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