As a drifter, I’m always on the lookout for a new home; whether it’s on a park bench, behind a dumpster, or in this case, a car. I’ve been watching the car from behind a building for about an hour to see if the owner would come back to their beat up Station Wagon, but so far, no one has. Just my luck! I quickly walk over to my new “home” and admire it for a few seconds, noticing the faded bumper sticker that said, “Smile, Your Mom Chose Life!” I refocus my attention back to the car, sweating and shaking nervously as I start to pick the lock, and with the scorching hot California sun beating down on me, I don’t feel any better. I finally got the door opened. The smell of old gym socks, hot garbage, and rotten eggs rolls out from the car. The carpet looks like the furry, green mold that grows on the lid of expired cottage cheese. I notice all the trash, a screwdriver, and a pile of grease stained food wrappers in the passenger seat, along with a dead rat on the floor. “Well no wonder it smells so bad.” I mumble to myself. I remove the warm plastic cover on the steering column with the screwdriver I had found and begin to hotwire the car. I hear a faint rustling sound but I ignore it, assuming it’s just another rat. Only seconds passed until I heard it again, and again, and again. I finally look up at the dusty rearview mirror, worrying that it was the owner walking back to their car but instead I see two crazed, yellow eyes staring back at me. I turned around to face the back seat and saw a man who looked dirtier than I did. He had big, dark circles under his eyes and a long, white beard with food particles in it. His gray jogging suit was dyed with an assortment of stains. He pointed a handgun at me and smiled, displaying his dull, yellow teeth that had more holes than a golf course. “Smile.” he said in a low smoker’s voice. “Your mom chose life!” I discreetly reach in my pocket for the elephant tranquilizer I had stolen from the zoo. I bring it to my lips and blow, shooting him in the arm, watching his eyes go in different directions as he loses consciousness. “Yeah, but I didn’t.”
“I am majoring in graphic design with hopes to one day become a t-shirt designer and open my own business. I love art in all of its forms, with painting and writing being my favorites. I also love punk rock, horror movies, and Jesus.”
Stark Voices 
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