Yellow taxi cab with city lights blurred in the background

Taxi to the Grave

You know when you’re daydreaming and you get carried away? Not the kind where you lie on your back as a kid looking up at the clouds making out shapes. Or like the times you are bored and your mind travels going nowhere at all.

I’m talking about full-on imaginings where an initial scenario snowballs into another and soon you’ve built a whole world with conflicts that only you, the exceedingly handsome hero of course, can overcome to win the girl of your dreams in the end.

My friend Dan understands this kinda thing completely. We met years ago teaming up to kick these other suckers’ asses online and we’ve been buddies ever since. Our combined enthusiasm for running commentary just works with my bluntness and his sarcasm. I say “his” because of the voice but I’ve never asked, we don’t get personal, that’s not cool. But Dan can’t be a female. No woman can understand me like he can.

We’ll be gaming and one of us will start with “imagine if…” and off we go, spending the next hour in this fantasy we create together, all the while playing a legendary game of  FIFA or Grand Theft Auto. Talking through the headphones, not seeing his face, things can get vulnerable. We throw in our deepest desires and it’s an unspoken rule that we’re not judged for it. No matter how dark or twisted it gets, the story just grows. 

Until reality kicks you in the ass when your phone alarm sounds off meaning it’s time to go to work. There’s no pile of money and riches from a bank robbery you just happened to get away with, there’s no mansion surrounded by armed bodyguards and maybachs parked in the driveway, and there’s certainly no girl with a smoking hot body wearing a bikini and heels hanging onto your every word. 

Nope, I’m still the same Max living in this shitty apartment in the shitty part of town, driving my shitty taxi and I don’t have the girl either. Not anymore. Good riddance though. She treated me like trash, complained all the time and made me feel like nothing I did was ever good enough for her.

This is what bitter resentment tastes like, in case you were wondering. I wish I could show her that I’m the guy that gets that type of girl. She’d regret ever leaving me. It doesn’t matter though, I don’t need her. She never appreciated me.

She’s not even here and I’m annoyed. Now I have to deal with drunks the rest of the night – the joys of the Friday evening shift. Of course, there’s always one or two drunks, no matter what day of the week it is, but Fridays I get the “went out for drinks with the office guys” that never know when to stop, and the “I’m going through a break-up and I just had to feel like me again” emotional drunks and those people in general who tell themselves they’ve worked hard all week and deserve to go balls to the wall.

But as long as they pay their fare and don’t throw up in my car, we’re good.

“Shit,” there she is. My Jenny. Yeah OK, my ex Jenny. Jogging along the park like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Oh how I love to watch her move though, especially in those grey tights. I bet she’s listening to one of those annoying self-help podcasts right now. She tried to get me to listen to them too. I wasn’t having any of it. 

I’ll drive real slow behind her, just for a little while. Imagine though, what if I parked my car just up ahead of her path and I’m outside, leaning against the car like I have nothing better to do with my time on a Friday and just happen to be watching the sunset. 

She’ll see me a couple metres away, taken aback by my handsomeness, looking sleek and debonair. She’ll gasp with her hand on her chest and then giggle and blush taking out just 1 earpod as she stops and says, “Hi handsome, I was just thinking about you.” Jenny will playfully bite her lip while slowly dropping her chin down and looking up at me through her eye lashes, hoping I’ll take the bait. Which of course I do, “And what exactly were you thinking about?” I’ll say, stepping closer and brushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear and cupping her chin to look up at me. 

Goosebumps will rise on her pale skin, and I’ll want to nibble her long neck, just a little. Then I’ll notice she’s saying, “… and all along I just knew you were the love of my life and I’d made a terrible mistake,”

I’ll smile down at her, run a finger along her cheek, down her neck and over her shoulder. She’ll take a step closer, her chest against my ribs, still looking up at me. It’ll be pure desire, knowing she wants me. She won’t be able to wait anymore then raise up on her toes bringing her mouth closer, and after making her wait just another second I’ll close the gap.

Her lips will be warm and soft, parting just enough for me to taste her. She’ll lean in deeper, she wants more. Wrapping my arms around her I’ll lift her up into me, kissing harder, my tongue entwining with hers. We’ll kiss forever, forgetting our surroundings as the scene fades into black.

“Dammit,” I shake my head and flip off the asshole that just hooted, bringing me out of my daydream. 

“She definitely wants me,” I can feel it. Now I have to try this. She sees me, my heart is racing now, I can’t keep the cool guy thing going in reality. But wait, she’s coming to me alright, and one hand is taking out an earpod, but the other is coming at me “Ahhh, what the hell is that for?” The punch to my chest didn’t hurt but who does she think she is?

“You’re unbelievable Max, seriously!” she yells now, and “just leave me alone already! This is creepy!” With a last look of contempt she pops the earpod back in and turns away from me, continuing her jog. She’s looking back every few metres to make sure I’m not following her. As if I would ever jog anywhere. 

White-knuckling the steering wheel, I imagine driving around the park to where she would turn off. It’s mostly deserted, lined with the back of houses, where she has to run along the alley to get to her street. I’ll drive slowly behind her, to delay the inevitable. Then when she takes that nervous look back, and sees me, with panic and fear in her eyes, I’ll slam down the gas and charge at her. 

There’s nowhere for her to go. No gates or entries into any of the yards here. Just this narrow alley. “Run Jenny, Run” I’ll shout at her, followed by my best evil laugh. 

The impact will take me by surprise, I’m sure. Her body will bend in a way I didn’t know it could, her head slamming on the windshield before bouncing off again so the car goes over her. I’ll stop, looking at the lump in the road in the rearview mirror before I get out the car. 

I’ll tower over her, taking in my accomplishment “Who’s creepy now, Jenny?” That’ll teach her and I’ll give her lifeless body a kick. 

My teeth hurt from clenching my jaw so hard. Jenny runs around the last corner. I wish I had the guts to do it. My fantasy continues where I folded her broken body into a suitcase and chucked it off the Hammond Bridge where that bus went off the other day. 

“Mr Landy,” the court sheriff is a naggy bitch. I want to grab her throat and squeeze to get this annoying sound to stop. “You are not allowed to be within 500 metres of Ms Manning. You have been served. If you breach this protection order a warrant for your arrest will be issued. Do you understand?”

“Yeah yeah, I got it”.

Today’s the day. I’ve waited patiently, watching her turn off the road through the park and into the alley. She doesn’t look around her at all. She’s asking for it, so arrogant to think she’s untouchable. I’ll show her. 

The car creeps slowly behind her, keeping far away enough so I can speed up when it’s time. I don’t want to just bump her. I want it to hurt. I wait until she looks around. And there it is. That look of confusion, then recognition, then anger, then realisation. I slam down the gas pedal so hard that this time she folds over the bonnet of the car and bounces landing hard behind it. 

I take the suitcase and the sledgehammer, thinking maybe I’ll have to break some bones to get her to fit. But I’m impressed, she’s so broken, folding her in half is easier than I thought.

That’s the last idiot finally out of my car. One after the other, in and out, with no idea Jenny was in the boot. 

The newspaper said the funeral for the victims of the bus accident would be at 9, plenty of time to leave Jenny to think about what she’s done while I shower and change into that suit she made me buy for that fat friend of hers wedding. I wonder, would she go over the car like Jenny did? Or maybe I would have to drive over her a couple times. 

What did those kids’ bodies look like from the bus wreck? Were they bloodied or in pieces?   It’s my luck they hit the bridge embankment instead of going in the water or they could have survived and I wouldn’t have the convenience of a funeral today. Look at all these kids paying their respects, making the graveyard look like a school yard, a depressing recess where everyone is wearing black.

Kids don’t pay attention though. I’m standing here carrying a suitcase and no one cares. The service goes on and on and Jenny’s getting heavy, these assholes better hurry up – I’ve got to sleep before I rematch Dan later.

“What’s in the suitcase?” Maybe I should push him into the hole.

“What’s it to you?” he’s barely 60 kgs, I reckon I could take him.

“Nah man, I don’t care, just waiting for this to be done so I can start filling the holes.” He’s a grave digger, see Jenny, being a taxi driver is still better than that.

“Which grave is the driver’s?” but I see it already, the hole on the end where no one is mourning. 

Little man is following me but I don’t care, “Poor guy, we went to school together ya’know,” he shrugs disinterested, “I promised I would bury his favourite books and snacks and things with him.” he nods, and we’re cool.

“Bye Jenny” what a satisfying thud the suitcase makes landing on top of the coffin. Little man can finish the job for me burying her forever.

This story was written as part of my YOU ChooseDay series. Every week I use the DIYMFA prompt randomiser to select two sets of prompts, then I share the options on my Instagram stories for votes on what I will be writing about that week. On Wednesday I write the first draft using the winning prompts, with editing on Thursday. I publish here on Friday and share with my IG followers. This process helps spark my creativity – forced to write a story about random topics, different point of view or genre, and within a deadline – and I try to achieve a minimum of 2000 words. As always, your feedback is welcome!

2 thoughts on “Taxi to the Grave”

    1. Yeah this one took on a life of its own, that’s for sure. But I’ve been having fun exploring different POVs and genres. Flexing my writing muscles so to speak 🙂

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