Manure

Written by Anakin McFly

12 November 1955
Hill Valley, California

It was a dark and stormy night.

Mr. Jones closed the back of the manure truck and got into the driver’s seat in front for the last trip of the night. He hit the gas pedal, and the vehicle started moving along the streets.

“Hill Valley – A Nice Place to Live,” he read as he passed the advertisement. It had been yet another long day for him... now all he had to do was dump off this last load of manure and he could go back home to rest. Mr. Jones sighed, thinking of his nice warm bed as the truck entered the mouth of the tunnel.

There was something going on at the other end. Squinting a little, he managed to make out a car with someone hanging onto its back. The vehicle was dodging left and right, as if trying to shake off its unwanted passenger. As the manure truck got closer, Mr. Jones realized that both seemed to be in their late teens.

“Kids,” he thought, letting out a small snort of disproval. “Don’t they know how dangerous that is? One or both of them might get kil...” Mr. Jones’ train of thought was interrupted as he noticed something else for the first time. The guy hanging onto the car was standing on a board. A FLYING board.

He rubbed his eyes and looked again. He had not seen wrong the first time. It WAS a flying board... and a pink one at that.

Unable to concentrate on his driving any longer, Mr. Jones watched in amazement as the flying person did some sort of weird stunt where for a moment his feet on the board nearly pointed to the ceiling and he snatched something out of the car... all the time still holding on...

This was not happening. Maybe they were making a movie here or something...Mr. Jones had his mouth wide-open, mind totally focused on the events taking place before him. He saw a string of ribbons fall hanging down from the sky. The guy grabbed hold of it, and he and his pink flying board were both lifted up to goodness knows where... Mr. Jones turned his attention back to the road.

The car was heading straight towards him.

Mr. Jones brain went into overdrive. He hit the horn hard as he swung the steering wheel as hard as he could... anything to get out of the way... he’d make it... no he wouldn’t... yes he would... no he wou...

Mr. Jones closed his eyes and waited for impact. He thought he heard the driver of the other car yelling, “S***!”...

There was a sickening thud as the two vehicles collided, and another as his head hit the windscreen. He saw blood. He smelt blood. He tasted blood. He was going to black out any moment now. This couldn’t be happening to him. Somebody was going to pay for this.

Behind him, the load of manure landed on the unfortunate car driver.

“Manure!” Mr. Jones heard. “I HATE manure!”

He gave a small smile.

“Serves him right,” he thought.

And blackness overwhelmed him.

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