My neighbor got a Tesla.
If I’m being honest, I love the car and hate it at the same time. Because I hate Jim. He’s a real prig.
He parks it in the driveway instead of his garage. He even has one of those supercharger stations you see downtown. Had it installed right on the concrete of his driveway last week. That stupid thing must have cost him as much as a house. How ostentatious can you be Jim? You fat bastard.
The car is incredible. I’ll give the car credit because credit is certainly due. I still hate it, but only because Jim is a smug piece of shit.
“Hey Scott!” he said on the day he bought it, “what’s your carbon footprint look like?” He grinned like a madman. “Mine will be like, a negative one, once I get those solar tiles installed.”
Negative one, like the size of your buried-penis, turtling into your fupa. That’s not how carbon credits work. Fuck off Jim.
“You should hear this baby not pur.”
How long did it take you to come up with that one you smug fucker?
I didn’t take a ride with him, though he offered:
“Want to see what it’s like to take a ride in the only car that’s in orbit?”
Fucking megalomaniac. Eat shit.
“No thanks, man” I say, “I’m running late to work.” I was actually off that day and headed to Starbucks.
As though he knew my lie, he said, “well if you’re headed by Starbucks on your way, I hope you’ve got your collapsible straw. Mine just came in the mail today.” He fished the stupid thing out of his pocket. I hope he breaks his teeth on it. Fuck metal straws and Fuck Jim.
“I don’t even use a straw now that they’ve got the new lids,” I told him.
“Well that’s good!” He says from across the street. He has a microfiber cloth in his hand, wiping the same goddamn flawless spot he has been for the last twenty minutes. “Better for the environment!”
Fuck that guy. Fuck his stupid grin and double fuck his brand new car. I ALWAYS use a straw and then when I’m done, I throw it right in the ocean. Turtle noses be damned.
This is all for show. Jim used to drive a massive Range Rover. I’ve seen him dump cooking oil down the storm drain after midnight. What? Now he’s mister environment over here? Jim has a lot of lost time to make up for.
I’m a nice person, but there’s a handful of things that will send me into a murderous rage…
Here’s a list:
- Clothes on the floor two feet from the hamper.
- Bad pet owners
- “Borrowing” my stuff without asking
- Smug douchebags who think they’re better than everyone else.
He fit the fourth criteria. That’s why I did what I did. Jim had it coming.
Last night I dressed in all black. I grabbed a bag and a kitchen knife from the block on my way out the door. I slunk through the midnight shadows in the pale September night. The air was cool and damp. Crouching low to the ground, I approached the Tesla. How about this, Jim, you braggadocious fuck? The first thing I did was unplug it. Haha!
Then I set to my real work. I crept to the side of his house, just beneath the window of his home office and reached into my bag. I pulled out a cutting board and 10 pounds of raw chicken. After slicing it right there in his side yard I spread the little nuggets all over the roof and hood and trunk of his car. Then I poured the entirety of a new bottle of Aunt Jemima onto every inch of the electric wondercar and snuck back home. I expected my Ring™ doorbell to capture all of the action the next morning. I couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
That wasn’t what the camera captured.
I awoke to find, upon looking out the window at Jim’s place, the car had been completely smashed to pieces. The tires punctured, every window cracked into a million diamond fragments and all of the chicken gone. It seemed as though most of the syrup remained, though now it had commingled with a thick black ichor.
I had to know what happened so I loaded up the camera footage.
Shortly after I retreated, perhaps an hour, the storm drain at the front of his house began glowing with an eerie green luminance. Inside sludge slowly rolled to the surface until it was overflowing from the grate. The sewage coagulated in the street to a solid lump three feet in height. The lump then split into three massive writhing slug-like creatures. Using their muscular forearms up front and a wriggling knot of wormy pseudopods from their rears, they slithered their way toward the car leaving snotty trails of glistening black grease in their wake. They ate the raw chicken and finding it gone too quickly, set about finding more.
In the video, they pounded their heads into the rear window with such determined ferocity that the weight of the impact as the windows smashed flattened the tires. Jim was awoken by all of this and came rushing outside with his gun.
An amalgamate of confusion and horror merged in the look on his face. After only a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the trigger on his gun. It did not fire because Jim is an idiot and the safety was on. The slug-creatures descended upon him, drawn by the sound of his impotent clicks. They quickly devoured his flesh, peeling it away from his skeleton beneath. When they’d finished they dragged the bones to the storm drain and disappeared into the dark.
I made a phone call after watching this all unfold on the small screen in my hands.
“I’m a patient of Doctor Blackwood’s…I need to set an appointment please.”
I decided I should probably take Doctor Blackwood’s advice and resume taking my medication. I wasn’t sure if what I’d seen was real… It may have been because the damage to Jim’s car was real enough. Just before the police arrived, I touched some of the shattered glass that had exploded out into the street, cutting my finger with sharp precision.
I don’t know what happened. Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m not.
I went to the grocery store and bought 10 more pounds of chicken and another bottle of Aunt Jemima, just in case.
Margaret two houses over has the most annoying fucking dog. Always barking and barking. I don’t know what the slugs will eat, but maybe they’ll like that.