(no subject)
Following the sound of squealing car breaks and a rather sudden pop, a peculiar cloud of dust rose from the outskirts of town. As the dust cloud settled, the driver of the stalled black van bearing a striking red stripe stepped out of the vehicle. While his movements were very heavy and collected upon exiting, the simple gesture of slowly running a hand thoughtfully down his mohawk quickly escalated to delivering a series of swift kicks to the nearby grass and gravel, throwing up more dirt.
When the dust could offer no more gratification, he flung open the back doors of the van for access to the spare and his tools. Neither was present. Slamming the doors back shut, B.A. took brief note of his surroundings before devoting his full attention back to the van. His old van was scrap: pancaked road rash obliterated in a single swoop. His new efforts were not only immobile and lost in unfamiliar terrain, but were starting to smoke under the hood. No tools, no spare, and no idea where he had just ended up. Overall, he found it to be more than cruel. It was just plain wrong.
B.A. could only cross his arms as he assesses the vehicle, shaking his head disapprovingly.
"That ain't right. Ain't right at all."
When the dust could offer no more gratification, he flung open the back doors of the van for access to the spare and his tools. Neither was present. Slamming the doors back shut, B.A. took brief note of his surroundings before devoting his full attention back to the van. His old van was scrap: pancaked road rash obliterated in a single swoop. His new efforts were not only immobile and lost in unfamiliar terrain, but were starting to smoke under the hood. No tools, no spare, and no idea where he had just ended up. Overall, he found it to be more than cruel. It was just plain wrong.
B.A. could only cross his arms as he assesses the vehicle, shaking his head disapprovingly.
"That ain't right. Ain't right at all."