Published: 5.27.11

         “No JK.  A fuxkin chopper” Jack felt stupid even as he texted it.  His boss wouldn’t believe him now.  But, flip on the news in half an hour and it would be everywhere.  The big boss man would have to believe him then.
         Jack sat on the hood of his ’94 Corolla, staring at the parking lot in front of him.  A three-lane freeway that stretched as far as the eye could see.  And about a mile down that freeway, thick black smoke billowed.  Jack had watched the whole thing happen.  Crazy shit.  And it didn’t affect anyone. 
         To the sides of the road, people laid in the grass, played with their kids and pissed in the woods.  Life went on almost like normal.  Turn your head forty-five degrees either way and you’d never know the destruction just a mile down the road.
         Jack didn’t care about missing work.  He was on salary.  It’s not his fault he wasn’t there.  They couldn’t default him a day for a semi-natural disaster.  Could they?
         Jack went to text his boss again, when,
         “Hey.  Do you know what’s going on?”  Jack coolly looked over to see a cute girl in a bikini top and cut off shorts standing in the grass.
         “You didn’t see it?”
         “Obviously not.  That’s why I’m asking you.”  Jack looked back over the sea of stalled cars behind.
         “How far back is your car parked?”
         “I don’t know.  A few miles.  I got bored.  Wanted to check it out.”
         “It looks like the apocalypse, doesn’t it?”
         The girl rolled her eyes.  “I don’t do zombies.”
         “There are other types of apocalypse.”
         “Whatever.”  And she kept walking.
         “Wait.”  Jack jumped off the top of his car and hurried behind the girl.  Taking one last look to his car, Jack knew no one would try to steal it.  So he threw the keys into the open driver’s side window.
         “Hold on, hold on.”  Jack caught up.  “So, where were you going?”
         “Home.”
         “From where?  It’s seven thirty in the morning!”
         “My boyfriend’s.”  This didn’t surprise, or disappoint Jack.  He wasn’t much of a ladies man, and the lack of shirt kind of turned Jack off.  Not because this girl wasn’t attractive.  But, because it was kind of slutty.  In a really hot way.
         The girl kept walking.  She didn’t even try to hold up the conversation.  So, Jack decided to take the reigns.  He hated silence.
         “I was going to work.”
         “That’s fascinating.”
         “Yeah.  I bet you can’t guess what I do.”
         “You’re probably right.”
         Silence again.
         “You know how there’s that joke, how many blanks does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”
         “What's a blank?”
         “You know?  A jew, a child, a mute, a priest, that kind of thing.”
         “A jewish kid who can't talk can’t be a priest.”
         “I didn’t mean all together.  Whatever.  Anyways, it only takes one Jack to screw in a lightbulb.”  This girl obviously couldn’t care less.  But, Jack had committed to walking with her.  It would be rude to turn back now.  Plus, he was kind of digging this rude, bitter chick.  And he could almost see down her bikini.  “I work in a building with over one million light bulbs.  I can’t tell you what building, that’s classified.  But, there are one million light bulbs and I fix them.”
         “You’re a janitor.”
         “Power specialist.”  Jack hated the term janitor.  It was so demeaning.  And he’d gotten the raise fair and square – along with the title bump.  He wasn’t taking that shit anymore.
         “Explains the Corolla,” she said. 
        Jack thought, ‘Why do I like you more every time you insult me?’
         “What?”
         “What?”
         “You like me?” 
        Fuck.  That was out loud, not a thought.  “Umm, I just meant…”
        “Holy shit.  Is that a helicopter?”
        “Yeah.  I saw it happen.  It was insane.”  Jack was running out of things to say.  He knew lightbulbs weren’t interesting.  This chick definitely wasn’t helping at all.  So, Jack decided to just start over,
        “My name’s Jack.  What’s your—“ But that’s all he got before,
        “What the fuck, Jared?!”  Jack whipped around to see the girl staring into a car parked on the edge of the freeway.  The girl smacked the top of the truck with her hand.
        Inside the car sat a man, who Jack could only assume was Jared, with a kind of frumpy Mexican chick. 
        “Who is this?  I thought you were going to work!”
        Jack didn’t want to watch.  Or listen.  He knew where this was going.  This was fate.  That helicopter came down, destroying tens of lives just to fuck with this girl’s day.  To catch her boyfriend.  With a frumpy Mexican chick.
        “I’m gonna go,” he told the girl.  She wasn’t listening.  She reached into the car and pulled at anything she could get her hands on.

        The second she heard the ‘What the fuck, Jared?’, Jill knew shit was going to hit the fan.  Becca was never going to believe this.  Becca and her stupid bikini top.  Was she at the beach?  God, what a mega skank.
        Jill had been telling Jared that for months. 
        “I can’t tell her about you.  She’ll flip.”
        “We’ve been best friends since middle school.  I don’t think she has anything to worry about.”
        “She’ll flip.”  So, every day when Jared was on his way to work, he’d pick Jill up and drop her at her bus stop.  It was practically the only chance they got to see each other any more.  But, Jill would take it.  Because Becca didn’t have anything to worry about, but Jill wished she did.

        Now, Jill sat on the edge of the freeway.  Crying.  He’d left with Becca.  Traffic moved.  Slowly.  But Jill didn’t have a phone.  Or the guts to hitch hike.  Until,
        “Hey, you need a ride?”  Jill looked up to see a cute guy in a ’94 Corolla.
        “I guess.”