The next chapter (Johnny)
-Johnny burst out of his front door with wreckless abandonment and his converse in his hand. He was sweating for all of the running he has had to do this evening… and it was just beginning. He dug his key ring out of his pocket and opened up the side door to the garage, jabbing the keyhole with the Chicago White Sox key that his parents had gotten him for christmas. The door opened to a pitch black room, and the only thing that was visible was the light from the button on his garage door opener. Johnny tapped the button, and a mechanical whirring signaled that the garage door opener had begun its work. One large panel at a time, the garage door climbed the steel tracks, dissapearing and giving way to the dull illumination of the night sky, just out of reach outside. After what seemed like an eternity, the spot where a garage door once stood was now a gateway to the outside world. Now visible was the frame of a 1995 Buick Lesabre. It had a few dents and scratches at the near the left side of the front bumper from the years of abuse taken by the garbage cans that sat behind the side door of the garage, and were suspiciously close to the car. The garbage cans were large and made of a thick plastic, so getting them to fit out of the garage door was a bigger chore than taking out the garbage itself. The car was a beige-ish brown collor and even after years of wear and tear, still glistened in the soft moon light. Johnny hurried to the car door, pressed the unlock button on his key ring, and got inside swiftly. Making himself comfortable, he adjusted the seat height, and adjusted the mirrors, just like he learned in driver’s ed, over two years ago. He still drived just like when he started, cautiously, and with hands at both 10 and 2 at all times. He had often gotten compliments from his mom’s friends about his driving, but he wasn’t to sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. He set his shoes on the passanger’s seat, he planned on putting them on at Jenny’s house, he didn’t have time to go through the time consuming task of putting on Converse at the moment. Raring to go, he put the key in the ignition and started the car. The Buick purred and the headlights ignited, piercing the darkness of the garage. The lights had then revealed a wide array of treasures dead center in front of the car. From left to right, a big screen T.V. with a Nintendo Entertainment System that have always been attached at the hip. When Johnny was in an interesting mood, he would come in the garage and play Duck Hunt, often working on his trick shots. Under the leg, over the shoulder, behind the head, you name it. Next, there was an antique record player/radio. Y’know, one of the really old ones that were really large and built like cabinets. Many times before, Johnny would riffle through his dad’s extensive vinyl collection and sneak into the garage to sample music that was much before his time, and he absolutley loved it. And next to the record player/radio was an old video poker machine that was meant to be in an old parlor somewhere, that was the only way to describe it. His father had installed a button that you pressed, and it would be the equivalent of putting in a coin to play, it was always a really fun time when he and his father would come outside and see who could get more points in Blackjack. And of course, what garage is complete without a fridge? Old, white, and covered in what looked like grease spots, it housed many packs of gum, pop, and ancient take-out left overs. Johnny let out a sigh of hapiness at the memories that flooded him as he looked at his time capsule of a garage, and then got down to business. He reached into the glove compartment, and pulled out a Purple CD case with a single blue memorex recordable CD contained inside. Crudely written on the disc in black sharpie were the words “Get me Outta’ Here!” He slipped it into the CD player, and it consumed the disc like an anxious child eating a cookie and the radio displayed the phrase “Reading Disc.” Without mercy to his or anyone else’s ears, Johnny turned the volume knob all the way up to 11 and its for you to assume that the bass and treble settings were likewise. When the reciever decided to play the disc, the elusive piano intro to Attack Attack’s “Sexual Man Chocolate” blared through the speakers, then joined by the entire band in an overdriven frenzy. The bassy sounds of the techno-metal band made the rear view mirror in the car shake. It made Johnny grin and he shifted the Buick into reverse and shot out of the garage, staring at the clock on his radio in the process. The clock read 7:32. Johnny’s heart had skipped about a baker’s dozen beats, but he then laughed out loud anf had forgotten that the clock in his car was 18 minutes fast. He had never quite figured out how to change it back. He then used the remote garage opener to close the garage door, which was something he often forgot to do, he was suprised he had remembered. Johnny then looked out the window to his left to check the outter rear view mirror. Johnny literally jumped and slammed on the breaks, letting out a scream at the sight he had seen… the rear view mirror was now missing, and was lying in the middle of the driveway. He had swiped it off when he backed out, but he was in too much of a hurry to notice, and the CD was too loud for him to hear the impact, and thats saying something. “Are… you.. SHITTING ME!?!?” He screamed at the top of his lungs. He furiously shifted the car into park and got out. He made his way over to the newly amputated mirror, when all of a sudden the blinding headlights had caught the mirror and reflected into Johnny’s eyes, through his glasses, intesifying the glare, and momentarily blinding him. Throwing his hands in front of his eyes, he yelled “Can this night get ANY better!?” When he regained his eyesight, he wound up for a kick and punted the mirror into the garage door, and it ricoched, sending it directly back at him “Oh, fuck.” He said, just barely moving out of the way in time. The mirror bounced off of the windshield, leaving a slight crack on the passanger’s side. He slapped his forehead and without thinking, ran into the garage one more time, he grabbed a roll of duct tape and grabbed the mirror from the hood of the car. Clumsily, he held the mirror in place, while taping it back into the spot where the mirror used to be. By the time he was done, he had used the entire roll of tape, and it looked rediculous. He tapped the mirror to test its durability and admired a job…well done? He sighed and mumbled “Good enough.” Continuing from where he had originally left off, he got back into the car and buckled up. He found his Converse on the floor from when he had slammed the brakes earlier, and he picked them up and placed them back on the seat. He checked directions and backed out of the driveway. Shifting the car into overdrive, he headed for Jenny’s house. This was the easy part. She lived about 3 minutes away. The clock now read 7:36 (7:18). The full moon had momentarily been shielded by a layer of clouds, and the only thing illuminating the way were the brights on the Buick. Obeying the speed limit, and keeping his hands at 10 and 2 (like always), he cautiously made his way, in fear of any confrontations with the police. He had finally reached Jenny’s block. He beamed a smile and started to dance along with the music. Now playing was the ear-pounding main riff of Angels and Airwaves’ “The War.” Johnny made a left and headed down the street. Scanning both sides of the street, Johnny searched for the adress, 4237. “Okay… 4186, 4194, 4218…” he stopped the car in front of a dark bricked, 3 story house, with a similar layout to his, but maybe a bit bigger. “…4237, end of the line” he said to himself, a bit nervously. He looked up at the window that patrolled the driveway, and there she was… Jenny, waiting for him. He blushed slightly, her dark hair and thin figure was something of his dreams. He noticed that her eyes had been glued to him, and when he looked up at her, she smiled brightly and dissapeared from the window. Johnny parked the car on the curb, took a deep breathe, looked himself over one more time in the mirror, and reached for his shoes. He opened the door slowly, got out and said to himself “Well… here we go…”
