"Good thinking."

Neither car moves.

"What are they doing?" Vampire stammers, glancing sideways at the police car. "Why aren't they going?"

"I don't fucking know!" Spin Doctor says hurriedly.

"They know we're tweaking!" Vampire rattles then. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no! They know, they know! Oh, no. We're gonna go to jail."

Lee slaps Spin Doctor hard across the back of his head. "Go forward a little bit! Go forward a little bit!" he says, his body starting to twitch and jerk.

Spin Doctor presses on the gas and we roll forward a few feet before he hits the brakes. The police car moves forward as well. We lurch forward again and then stop. Keeping pace, so does the police car. It's similar to a game of leapfrog—we move ahead a few feet and stop, they move ahead a few feet and stop. It goes on. And now we're neck and neck stopped in the middle of the intersection. I can't tell who's more confused—the crank addicts, or the two police officers who seem dead set on pulling behind us. Spin Doctor continues to try and egg the officers into driving away with a few more forward lurches.

The hysteria grows with each forward movement of the car. Vampire's rocking back and forth with his hands pressed hard to both temples. Lee's speaking so fast in between twitching spasms that his words have become a blur. Spin Doctor's leaping up and down in his seat like a mad man, screaming repeatedly, "These fucking cops! What are they doing? These fucking cops!"

And just as I thought that this game of leap frog would continue until the sun comes up, red and blue lights flash suddenly from the night ahead as two. . .make that three more L.A.P.D. squad cars speed toward us. The thought to spring from the car and run streaks through my mind, but I don't think Joel would have the guts to follow. He appears in a daze as we continue to lurch forward, the scene around him probably seeming like a bad dream, an adventure somewhere in the magical land of cranksters, where the bad guys are the cops and the heroes are mad doctors, vampires, and auto mechanics.

The police cars ahead quickly box us in. It's all happening too fast. My mind faintly registers that we've stopped moving. Then it faintly registers that the doors on Spin Doctor's sedan have been thrown open and me and Joel are suddenly the only occupants. But not for long. In seconds we're surrounded by police shouting in fury. Their guns are drawn. This isn't what holds my attention, though. Shocked, I can only watch as we're abandoned, the three crank addicts making their escape like three crazed kangaroos, hopping and skipping and bouncing over the stopped police cars, soon disappearing into the dark of the Los Angeles night.

.. :: .. :: ..


.. :: .. :: ..

NOT a breath can be heard from the hush that weighs heavily upon my captivated classmates. Indeed, it's hard to determine if it's this oral-segment of my final that has commanded—and Professor McGinnis as well—their undivided attention, or maybe if it's my out-of-character hyperactive pacing, wrinkled and soiled clothing, unshaven face, dilated pupils, and ruffled hair.

". . .And so you see," I say loud enough for my voice to carry to the back of the room.