Scenes From The Drive Thru...the second thing I ever wrote

This was the second thing I ever wrote...once again in the middle of my divorce. Getting a little dark...


Scenes From The Drive Thru
By: Chad Miller

The shattered glass scattered amongst the trash and various other debris of the ancient moon lit parking lot was painfully reminding him of how his life had become. Like the theater that had once stood there, he had been full of life, and loved by many. He recalled the last time that he, himself, had graced the doorway of the now dilapidated pile of rubble that had been the sunrise of a new life for him.

Ten years, almost to the day, he had accompanied an angel to this very spot, an angel who would soon after, be allowed to reside in his heart, take his last name, bear his offspring and follow him to the ends of the earth, hand in hand, heart to heart.

The rest of our subject’s romantic, emotional rollercoaster could be compared to every “lost at love” story that anyone ever had the displeasure of telling, or listening to. Boy meets girl, boy loses girl and gets her back multiplied by twenty. Boy leaves for the Army, marries girl. Girl fucks around, boy forgives girl, girl fucks around again, boy forgives girl. Boy stays at the mercy of girl while she unforgivingly inserts sharp objects and twists them in his heart. And now, boy stands in an abandoned parking lot in the dark, at the end of this rope, which leads us to the present.

In the near distance was the illuminating glow of the establishment that remained her slave-like place of employment. Our pitiful subject had sworn to himself that he would never again cross the threshold of her job again, and like a true specimen of manhood, he intended to keep his word.

He could see her dishing out the slop de jour in the drive thru window, her red hair gently flowing in the light, evening breeze. A harsh crime it would be to scar this delicate flower for the rest of her natural life, but….

Stepping into the street he screamed her name to the best of his natural abilities and with praise to the gods of timing, she glanced out into the abyss of traffic, just as a Peterbilt rig caused his life to vanish in a brilliant crimson explosion. The once estranged bride shook uncontrollably as she collapsed to the ground howling loudly in disbelief and emotional anguish.

He had managed to once again devastate her live in a way that only “he” could. And she was sure to give him an ear full just as soon as she could gather her composure and gain access to the rat poison stock that was kept in the rear of the restaurant. If he thought he could get out of it this easy, he had another thing coming.