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Sunday 24th

  • Aug. 6th, 2005 at 12:09 AM
Grant-Lee Phillips Eskimo
We left Miranda shortly after noon on Sunday. She sent us both off with kisses and full bellies, having made pancakes and bacon, as per the Muse's request. "Don't be stupid," she whispered in my ear before I got in the car.

"Don't be so wise," I whispered back.

"Don't whisper," the Muse said from the other side of the car. "I hate being left out."

And so, on we went on our spontaneous road trip, flying down the highway along with hundreds of other weekend travelers. The Muse chose the music, shuffling through CDs, keeping us driving with a beat. "Copied this from Miranda," she said, putting the disc in the stereo. "Somebody called Mundi. I rather liked it, so you'd better like it, too."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"It's only Sunday, you know," she said, settling back in her seat. "We've still got another week before you have to go back to work."

I nodded. "Already feels like we've been gone that long. It's nice. Time doesn't usually work in my favor that way." We pulled up alongside a semi, hauling something that looked like a giant fiberglass gumdrop the size of a VW Beetle.

"If you'd just hurry up and get rich," the Muse said, "then you could live like this all the time. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"It would be, but only if you learned to drive. I don't want to be the one doing all the work here."

"Wow," the Muse said, looking at the gumdrop next to us. "Look at that."

"What?"

She pressed her forehead against the window. "There's a sign on the side of that thing. It's radioactive."

I twisted my head and saw the markings on the side of the gumdrop. "Holy shit. What do you think that is? Is there a nuclear waste dump around here or something?"

"How should I know? I don't live here." She pointed ahead of us. "Look. There's two more of them up there."

"This is comforting," I said, and stepped on the gas. "Let's get ahead of them, shall we?"

"Good idea. I don't really want to be glowing in the dark when we try to sleep tonight."

I bumped the little Ford Focus up to eighty, and sped past the trucks, one by one. The Muse looked back at them as we passed. "I swear the drivers are wearing Haz-Mat suits."

"I don't want to know."

"Helmets and everything." She turned around almost the entire way in her seat. "I think they've got tentacles too."

I pushed the car up another few miles per hour. "Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Am I?" she asked. She faced forward again. "Am I really?" She cackled madly.

"God, you're weird."

"Am I? Am I really?"

"Freak," I said. I slowed to cruising speed and didn't look in the rear view mirror at the trucks behind us.

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