The Car

Flash Fiction

The Car

“I told you this would happen.”

“What?!”

“I told you this….”

“You did not tell me this would happen! You told me you didn’t think it was going to work. Congratulations, you were right, it didn’t work.”

“OK… so what should we do now?”

“Well, we have to get into the car! Break a window?”

“You would break a window just because you think your key is in there?”

“Well, how much does a window cost?”

“I don’t know, but more than calling a taxi and going home to look for your other key!”

“It isn’t my car…”

“What? You drive this car all the time.”

“Yes. But it’s my mother’s…”

“What? You drive your mother’s car? You’re thirty-seven years old! You don’t have your own car?”

“Why should I spend money on a car, and insurance, when this car just sits in the garage.”

“Doesn’t your mother drive it?”

“My mother doesn’t even drive. I have a key so I can drive her places when necessary. And I drive to the store, or any other places she needs to go.”

“So, what’s the deal?”

“I’m not supposed to drive it alone except for gas, or if she sends me for something…”

“But we use this car every night!”

“Well, she doesn’t know that… I always have it at home, when I’m home and she goes to bed at five thirty so she has no idea I take it out most nights. If it’s important, she always calls me on her cell, then I rush home and pretend it was there the whole time!”

“And that works?”

“Yes. Call a taxi. I’ll go home and get the other key.”

“Why don’t you just get your own car?”

“Money…”

“But you’re almost always broke!”

“See how well that works!”