Reversing the Polarity

I tromped down the steps to the cabin comfortably, letting the screen door bang shut with a loud thwap. The early morning fog was a bit cold, and I pulled my old leather jacket about myself happily. Glad I had packed this thing, and it had only taken a few moments to pull together a wardrobe that was halfway presentable. If I had to wait for one of them, surely it would have been at least a half hour of preparation.

The Westfalia started quickly and easily, and I pushed the soiled and wet blanket out of the passenger seat where it was crumpled. The whole van still smelled of sex, and I rolled down a window as I backed the bus in the parking space, performing a precise three point turn. The cool breeze easily cleared the scent of excited woman from the air, allowing me to think clearly for the first time in a long time.

I immediately checked the gas gauge and noted that there was almost nothing in the tank, which made sense. I would barely be able to make it to Carmel at this rate. Time to gas up again, and this time not take any shit.

The Van smoothly followed my every direction as I pulled onto Highway one, after having to pump my brakes and flip the finger at a moron in a sports car who decided to pass me on a double yellow and blind curve. Fucking idiot. I hoped fervently that I would soon see his flaming wreck, and was seriously disappointed when I did not. Ah well, if not today, someday. Wasn't my responsibility to see it through.

The small rise on my right which led to the gas station I had previously visited was a familiar and welcome sight. I felt no nervous anticipation as my eyes took the sight of the blue Honda parked in the employee position, nor the little fucker sitting behind the counter, flipping right on his phone once again. He had taken exactly zero notice as the small mechanical bell sounded twice.

I shrugged.. No reason to deal with the fucker. I exited the van, pulling open the small compartment on the side. It was a simple matter to operate the pump, and as I waited, I watched the numbers rising.

I didn't even bother looking up as a small red Ferrari pulled up. Probably some rich asshole, and I didn't need to deal with it. Right now I was thinking about other things. The pump worked slowly, and I looked out on the foggy day, smelling the scent of gas, and the wet fog.

"WHAT DA FUCK, YOU LIDDLE SHIT!" I suddenly heard in a very broad Chicago accent, emanating from the small cashier's cubicle. "You really fukkin' think I'm gonna blow your fugly ass in the washroom? FUCK YOU!"

I looked over my shoulder to see a dark haired woman in a low cut top and black jeans cursing at the clerk.