Monday, June 23, 2008

pray or prey?

13 used to be my lucky number.

And Friday the 13th never scared me. But next time Friday the 13th rolls around, I’m not leaving the house.

If you look back at my blog, you will notice that I had car trouble and had to call a tow truck to haul me and my car 25 miles. I was without wheels for over a week. The piston stem came out of the transmission. I’m lucky nobody was hurt, because it shoots out like a bullet when the car is moving down the highway. I decide I should get a new car. Friday the 13th I’m driving to St Paul to pick up my new vehicle when in the middle of nowhere the piston stem goes flying off. Again. Once this happens, the car quits moving. I make it to the side of the highway, pulling to a stop in front of an old cemetery. No houses, no buildings, just the cemetery.

Wait for tow truck. Hot sun beating down.

Now here’s where it gets weird. Well, not quite yet, but soon.

First person to stop is a young farmer in a pickup. Curious kid in the passenger seat. We go through the need help stuff, got a cell phone stuff, and once he knows everything is okay, he leaves. Next comes a giant white Lincoln. By this time I’m outside my car, near the cemetery because it’s too hot to wait in the car, and too dangerous. Passenger window goes down. Blonde bombshell. Platinum hair, red, red lips. Car packed with so much crap it looks like she lives in it. I spot the case of beer.

“You okay, darlin’? Got a cell phone? Need some water? Want me to wait with you?” Once she’s reassured that everything is fine, she blasts off like someone from a Tarantino movie. Tow truck won’t be there for at least another hour, so I mosey down the dirt lane next to the cemetery where there is one tree and shade.

Big rusty white Econoline van pulls up. Wormy weird man inside. “Need help?”

I tell him everything is under control. Go through the waiting for the tow truck thing. He mumbles something, and takes off. I can see the van turn down a lane, vanish, then reappear at a farmhouse on a distant hill. Ten minutes later he’s back. Gets out, opens both back doors of the van, puts a folding chair in the shade next to the cemetery fence, and places a milk crate in front of it.

“Have a seat.” The van doors are just feet from the chair, and even though I know he’s going to hit me over the head and drag me inside the van, I sit down. I’m polite that way. But I feel for my cell phone, and wonder if I should discretely auto-dial a fave.

He adjusts the milk crate, and sits down. He touches my knee.
“I just want to ask you one question.” His face is inches from mine. “Where are you going to go when you die?”

I don’t own a handgun, but I keep thinking I must have one in the car. Surely I have a gun in the car. Or in my backpack. I keep visualizing it there. All nice and cozy.

“Are you going to heaven, or hell?”

“I don’t believe in heaven or hell.”

Oh, why did I say that? He’ll kill me for sure now.

“Just before you die, I want you to do one thing. I want you to accept the Lord Jesus Christ as your savior. That’s all you have to do to go to heaven.”

I get to my feet, which is kind of hard with the wormy man right there. I don’t want to turn my back to him. He can see that I’ve had enough. He reaches into his pocket. For a gun? A knife? He pulls out a little religious pamphlet with his prayer line on it, hands it to me, gets in his van, and drives off, back to the farmhouse. I have a book with me – A WOLF AT THE TABLE -- so I sit down in the shade, open it, and read until the tow truck guy arrives. Damn Friday the 13th.


Heather Harper said...

Sounds like my childhood.

Kelly Parra said...

Freak out!! Yes, my imagination would have been running a mile a minute.

I'm going to be ridiculously dramatic and say thank goodness you're safe! =D Yikes!

Bill Cameron said...

By applying the techniques of The Secret, you can wish a gun right into your hand. I know this because some fellow with wayward eyes told me so in the coffee shop the other day. Not that he mentioned a gun per se—I'm just extending the lesson to your specific situation—but the gist of his message was Wish Hard=Instant Whatever Right There IN YOUR HAND OMG. Happily, the guy didn't touch me on the knee.

I don't think it works though, because later that same day the woman at the table next to me shrieking into her cell phone about her nogoodlousyrottenlazysmelly husband neither burst into flames NOR got struck by laser-guided precision meteors. Maybe the problem was that I didn't wish for the meteors to shoot out of my hands.

Glad you survived!

vanessa jaye said...

Sheez. A couple of weeks ago at about 8am on a Saturday I had a couple of persistent ones at the front door. One kept trying to siddle by to get into the house to talk. Uhm, no.

Gotta say Anne, that sounded like it could have been a scene out of one of your books. :-P

bekbek said...

Bill is on to something (or on something, whichever). I think you probably did wish that gun right into your bag. Alas, the spell is ruined when you open the bag.

How come it's never a hot dude with a porn moustache?

pattinase (abbott) said...

I went to school with these people and if you hadn't taken the pamphlet, he might have pulled out the gun. Yikes.

anne frasier said...

damn blogger ate my comments so i'll try again. it's never as good the second time though, because i begin condensing. :D
heather, like your childhood as in car breakdowns, blond bombshells, or religion? i do believe you live in the bible belt.
kelly, yeah, i loved the woman in the car. really want to know her story!! the whole thing was really amusing, but i had to keep reminding myself that this could actually be dangerous.

anne frasier said...

bill, lol! i don't know how people write in coffee shops. and yet with nutcases like that around i can see where it could also be stimulating. my sister-in-law believes in visualization. annoying yet endearing.

vanessa -- I KNOW!!! I kept thinking I was living in one of my own stories.

anne frasier said...

bekbek -- haha! yeah, you're right about the bag -- and you might be right about bill. :D and i think if some hot guy had pulled up i would have been even more suspicious. i've known some really good-looking guys who were evil through and through.

patti, there was something so...well, if we're talking religion... sinful about his actions.

cinderelly said...

creepily funny! especially the stopped at a cemetary part! i always want to tell them i'm going to hell...i know more people there.

Bill Cameron said...

I'm not on anything. Much. *hic!*

Lately, I've started to find it is harder to write in the coffee shop, though the one I go to has gotten busier of late. That might explain why. I tried a new one yesterday, much quieter, but the chairs were miserable.

Now off to try to grow a porn mustache.

anne frasier said...

cinderelly -- the cemetery certainly added a great layer to the whole thing. wouldn't have been the same without it. and now i get to experience a fond memory whenever i pass it.

bill, let's all grow a porn mustache.

Heather Harper said...

I grew up in the buckle of the belt, lol! But I also had an eerily similiar experience when the transmission went out on my car driving from OK to Arkansas.

I think the only reason I wasn't murdered was because I had my guard dachshund with me. ;-)

Anonymous said...

Holy Shit!

Is that gun in the car now?

anne frasier said...

heather, that's freaky!! buckle -- LOL!

jason, no, but i have still have the guy's phone number.

emeraldcite said...

Come out of the woodwork, they do.

We have this nice Jehovah's witness couple (or maybe a family) visit us every month or so. They stop by, drop off some things, and go on their way.

Probably think they're helping some young couple with kids find God and order and whatever.

Recently, we had three young Baptists stop by. They give me a pamphlet about their Church, then open it to show the tract inside.

Then, the blond one in the front says, "Can I ask you a question? Are you sure you're going to Heaven?"

I tell him, "No, you can't ask me that" and closed the door on him.

The look on his face was like I just kicked him in the nuts.

You just don't ask strangers questions like that, not even if you buy them dinner, a movie, and a martini...

Hope all the 13th are better from here on out. Glad to hear that you didn't get saved! ;)

anne frasier said...

Glad to hear that you didn't get saved! ;)

lol! i've missed your sense of humor!