Occasionally, in our lives, we do things that are, well, let's just say half-retarded. This particular stunt fits that category. So this happened back when I lived in Kansas working at Kohl's Department Store. While I was working I received a call from a friend of mine, Greg. He told me that we were going to hang out after I got off work, and that they've been doing something crazy and fun. I continued working without putting much thought into what the night would hold in store. Our idea of fun was usually doing the same thing, blowing something up...mail boxes. Not really we wouldn't do that, that's illegal...maybe a few times. Anyway! Not important...but entertaining nonetheless. After work I called him up. He swung by my house and picked me up in his piece of junk Oldsmobile Achieva that we named "high flyin' blue." I don't know why he always bought Oldsmobile Achievas (he had two) because they were junk.
We headed out and I was sitting shotgun. Some kid was sitting in the back that I didn't know. From the back, the kid handed up a large super soaker water gun. Greg just looked at me with a mischievous grin.
"Alright...so what am I going to do with this?"
Greg answered, "Shoot cars!"
Yeah. This is our idea of fun. Kansas boys cruising around town giving free car washes.
"So did you pee in it or something?" There had to be a catch.
"Nope, just water," Greg still had that goofy grin on his face.
Whatever. We took off. We cruised around for a little bit and Greg showed me how the game worked, not that it was too hard to catch on to in the first place. We would either squirt the neighboring cars passing by or shoot cars at stop lights. Nothing too exciting; however, when there is nothing to do you find entertainment in silly things. I wasn't too impressed with this game, so when we decided that it was m turn to shoot the deadly super soaker my attitude was go big or go home.
We drove around for a while and then pulled up next to a Dodge Dakota and as we slowly inched up to the side of the truck we could feel our bodies vibrate along with the booming of the guy's sub-woofers. It was go time. Greg rolled down his window and I reached over him. I had previously pumped the heck out of that super soaker for full force pressurage. I made that word up. I hesitated a moment noticing that the man's windows were down, and the interior of his Dakota was lit up like a tanning bed glowing indigo blue from all the L.E.D. lights scattered through out his truck. It was like peering into a spaceship. Two little imaginary figures popped on my shoulder to debate over whether or not I should soak the inside of the man's truck. Before my conscious could say anything, I released the water stored in my super soaker tank into the man's truck. Time froze as Pressurized water exploded from High Flyin' Blue into the Dakota. I roared a high pitched war cry, probably fooling the man that I was a teenaged girl catching a glimpse of Justin Beiber. Cutting through the steady stream of water the man fired a counter stream of cursing. His hands shot out defensively attempting to block the onslaught to no avail. Greg picked his jaw up off the floor, and gunned the car running the red light heading towards the highway for the chase to begin.
The Dakota was flying right up behind us. Unfortunately it didn't take him long to be right on our tail Greg's achieva was like an old man with a walker. We slowly flew as fast as we could down the highway. We all laid low afraid that the man would shoot at us. You can never tell what these wanna-be-gangstas are going to do. We peeled off the highway and rumbled down an empty road leading to the movie theatres. The Dakota did as well. A huge round-about was up ahead and we squealed around the round-about going, give-or-take a few, 60 miles an hour. We went around and around, never exiting the round-about. The Dakota came into the circle of death after us. We played cat and mouse at 60 miles an hour for approximately 5-6 complete rounds, up until we were coming up behind the Dakota. Luckily for us, we had a real piece of junk, so we didn't care about taking the turns at death defying speeds. We obviously didn't put much thought in our safety either, but what high school kid does? Coming up behind the Dakota, we flung high flyin' blue from the round-about and took off down the same road we came on towards the highway. The Dakota was no longer in view behind us so we slowed down and came up to a red light. We stopped and planned on going straight to make it for Gage Park. Then the Dakota came booming like a fighter jet up behind us.
Greg looked back yelling, "OH $@#T!!!" (keep this G rated)
I ducked coving my head and pumped my super soaker like a mad man, the only form of defense I had. I can only imagine what this must have looked like the driver looking frantically around while the passenger was vigorously pumping something below the seat, and some random kid passed out in the back seat. The man from the Dakota came out of his truck and made his way towards our car, one hand holding his pants above his knees and the other waving around, flashing gang signs probably, in the air. Luckily he couldn't run very fast because his pants were clearly hindering his mobility.
One quick side note. Why would you as a "thug" "gangster" "whatever you want to call yourself" criminal activity type person where clothes that make you so immobile that you couldn't escape anything if your life depended on it. I mean seriously if you are going to rob a 7/11 go dressed ready to run. Why would you go rob a 7/11 in a baggy hoodie that is only weighing you down, and pants that are also super baggy and sagging down below your junk that you have to walk bow legged to keep them up? If I were going to rob a 7/11 I'd be in athletic shorts and under armour or something. I mean come on! All you people who are going to do some sort of criminal activity that involves moving faster than a mean swagger strut, wear something that makes more sense. There are no 7/11's floating up in the air that require you to parachute and skydive. Don't wear overly baggy stuff, duh.Anyway, sorry about that. So our waddling guy reached the end of the car and he pounded on the trunk yelling for us to come out. Like we were going to do that. Greg put the pedal to the metal and ripped away leaving the guy gagging at the achieva's nasty exhaust. I can only imagine that it didn't taste that good because being in the car smelled bad enough. As we were getting back on the highway we could see the guy waddling back to his truck. Now we were afraid that he called in his other waddling tanning bed truck friends and that they'd soon be after us. Again, we slowly flew down the highway heading towards Manhattan, which was about 40 miles away. Greg's older brother lived in Manhattan so we were hoping that if he were to chase us all the way there that we'd have a place to hide out. He came up behind us only inches away from our bumper. Trying to pass us, Greg wouldn't let him. This went on for a couple of miles. This dancing of cars nearly kissing bumpers. Up until the Dakota wouldn't have any more of it and he peeled off the highway and we continued towards Manhattan. After a little while we decided that we were safe and headed back towards Topeka. We gave each other high fives, the kid in back came to, and we celebrated our victory. We drove into Steak and Shake to reward ourselves with a milkshake, we were all still shaking from the adrenaline pumping through our blood. An intense chase but we proved to be the victors. At least we proved to be the crazier people.
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