Wheezing

I’ve snuck out and my parents don’t know where I am because it’s 1998 and cell phones aren’t a thing. 

It’s late because I spent all night drinking, showing off to a bunch of college kids I don’t know. 

The party was a bust and I’m on the road now before I get into some real trouble. 

It’s interesting when there isn’t any lights and there’s a guy on the side of the road. 

This isn’t like a movie, cause I know if I were in need, I’d want help. 

“My name is Jonas, I’m here to help,” I says, “and my name is Wepeel.”

“It’s late, cold, so lemme help you with your car so you can get.”

He eyed me once over, nodded with a smirk I could barely see. 

“Tell me what you’re experiencing,” I asked as I studied the inside. 

“It just lost power, dammit, I need to replace the insides.”

“Probably needs a jump, I’ll check if I have cables.”

Shouldn’t panic, why are there cleavers in his car?

“Don’t panic son, it’s just my work tools.” 

Heart beating because this was a mistake. 

“Gotta box full of your toys.”

“The workers are going home.”

Mouth is bone dry. 

Must escape now. 

“Come back.”

“Jonas!”

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