For Preston.

“Alrighty.  I’ve got the car towels, window towels, soap, vinyl cleaner, leather cleaner, leather conditioner, window cleaner, gloves, plastic belt, long sleeve shirt, hat, and comfortable shoes.  Most importantly, I’ve got a winning attitude,” he said aloud to no one.  What he wouldn’t utter, even to himself, was his plan.

The roar of the turbine-engine-sounding blowers startled him out of his daydream.  “It’s go time,” he thought to himself.

As soon as the car made its way from the tunnel to his side he went to work.  First the exterior, then the wheels, then the inside.  “Wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am,” he proclaimed to himself, whip-cracking the ground with his damp towel.  “Ford, ready!” he called.

A gentleman walked his way.  Standing ready at the door, he surmised he’d get a decent tip.

“Thanks for coming in today.  Have a great day,” he said, his voice without expectation.

“Thank you,” the gentleman replied in kind.

Closing the door, he walked empty-handed around the back of the car.  Checking that the driver wasn’t looking, he ducked low.  He only had a moment to decide.  “Fuck it,” he said, the purr of the exhaust causing his heart to race.  He opened the back door and quickly slid across the back seat until he was directly behind the gentleman.

Noticing the intruder before the pain, the gentleman released a terrified gasp.  Struggling to get a word out, the gentleman realized the trespasser had thrust a knife into his right side and was now yelling, “Drive!  Drive you cheap, ungrateful, son of a whore!”

The tires smoked as the car launched forward.  Forgetting to follow the generally accepted “stay on the pavement” rule, the gentleman sent the car straight ahead.  The incision lengthened an inch as the car jumped the curb.  The assailant felt this unexpected delight and thought, “Serves him right.”  Filled with a boyish excitement, he maintained his grip on the ribbed knife handle and twisted frantically, as if he discovered suddenly that the door to the room in which he planned to hide from an approaching devil was locked.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen.  You’re going to drive.  You’re going to drive until you’re dead.  You are dying today, and I am the man who is going to kill you.  There is no chance to change this course of events,” he dictated, calming at the sound of his own voice.

“Wh-what?  Why?” the gentleman asked.

“Don’t ask questions,” he said, pulling the knife and some entrails out of the gentleman’s side.

“Mother!” the gentleman cried.  “I’m sorry kid.  Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

“Ha.  Arrogant to the end, eh?  Like anything you did deserves death at the hands of a car wash kid?  No.  Call for your mommy, call for your daddy.  Tell me to pass a message to your wife and kids.  But do not believe that this is about you.  This was never about you.  This is about me.  The only thing I want you to regret is your choice to get your car washed today,” he said, plunging the hunting knife into the gentleman over and over again until the vehicle crashed into a billboard which read, “Dirty Car?  Stop in Today for $10 Off Our Standard Wash’n’Vac Service.”