Written: Wednesday, June 30, 2010
TIC-TAC by Christopher M. Bohan
“Stop it. Stop that!” Sarah was fiercely concentrating on the road ahead while attempting to discourage her infantile boyfriend. Ralph, the descendant of two apparently normal and hardworking humans, was attempting to retrieve an orange Tic-Tac from the vent between the dashboard and the windshield.
“It’s my last one!” He said in a muffled tone: he was attempting to retrieve said Tic-Tac with his tongue. He had removed his seat belt and was pressing his head in as far as it could go. The cummerbund on his tuxedo was restricting his movement, so he reached back with his right hand to unhook it.
“We are almost there. Give it a rest. Please don’t embarrass me at the dance. This will be my only senior prom. Please don’t make it suck!” Sarah finally began to understand the true meaning of the word ‘dejected’.
Sarah took her eyes off the road for one second to see the tragedy that was her date and when she looked back it was too late to stop and she rear-ended the Pontiac in front of her. The collision threw Ralph back into his seat. And, with a bright orange Tic-Tac in his mouth, he exclaimed, “Got it!”