Luka growled, wrenching the wheel to the left and pulling them to the shoulder. He ripped the gearshift into park and pinned his girlfriend to the seat. “For a very very long time..” Luka said with a dark edge to his voice, finishing her sentence for her.
Abby nodded nervously. “Yes.. It seems that way..”
He nodded, smiling grimly. “Very well then.. Can your friends wait a little longer?” Luka’s lips parted slightly and his tongue darted out, wetting them before he ducked his head to her small but firm chest. He kissed it softly, unbuttoning her blouse and releasing her breasts from their strapless cotton prison.
She nodded breathlessly. “Uhh.. huhh..”
*****
It was dark and Elizabeth was polishing off her eightieth MARS bar from the vending machine. The diner had closed about three hours ago and the phone booth Doug had found was missing a phonebook.. and a phone...
Dave cursed loudly and kicked at the pop machine. “Fucking thing ate my money!” The large illuminated vending machine shuddered ominously before spewing forth enough cans of cola to rot the teeth of all Americans everywhere. He cheered, grinning and scooping the canned drinks into his carry-on. “SCORE!!!!!!”
***
Abby buttoned her blouse awkwardly as Luka drove, weaving down the highway and sticking his rather long tongue down her throat. She giggled and squealed, frightened as they were nearly clipped by a rather large semi. “LUKATH! Watth thuh woad!!”
“Uh.. Oh.. Right..” He muttered, looking up and narrowly avoiding another truck. It screamed past, blaring it’s horn.
It was another few minutes before they reached the diner, and Abby took these moments to fix her make-up and straighten her clothes. They drove into the parking lot slowly as their friends closed in on the car. Hungry, tired, and very very pissed off.
Luka opened the door and Benton grabbed him by his shirt, dragging him out into the gravel, getting ready to beat the snot out of him.
Mark and Dave managed to pull Peter off. “Come on man.. Cut it out.. We want a piece of him too..” Dave muttered irritably.
Doug shook his head. “No.. Leave him alone guys..” He muttered with a deathly calm in his voice.
Luka smiled nervously, dusting himself off and standing slightly. Doug held out his hand, pulling him to his feet.
Luka smiled. “Thank you, Dou-”
Doug glared at him, swinging back and punching the Croatian Sensation
in the nose.
*******
The group stood around the bleeding, unconscious, ‘Euro-doctor’ and
Dave poked him with his sneaker.. “So.. What do we do now?? I vote we stick
him in the trunk then drive to Vegas.. Anyone with me?”
Mark grinned. “I’d say that’s a plan.. Anyone else??”
Abby grabbed his arm and pushed them away from Luka, standing in front of them. Her eyes flashed with anger and hurt, her bottom lip quivered with the classic ‘Abby’ expression. “I don’t know how you could do this to him! He’s lost a family member! His uncle died.. He has to go to Croatia to sell his uncle’s farm and you guys are beating the crap out of him! Stop this.. This stops right now..”
Carol nodded solemnly. “She’s right.. You guys have to stop this..” She bit her lip and smiled slightly. “But not before I do *THIS*!!!” Carol hauled off and kicked Luka in the groin.
Luka moaned, curling up into a ball on the road side and opening his eyes painfully, his nose already swelling. Deep purple bags puffed under his eyes and he winced. “C-carol??” He moaned softly. “W-why did you do that?!”
“You left us in the middle of nowhere! You left us to die! What about my poor babies??” Carol whimpered theatrically.
Luka rolled his eyes slightly. “Your poor babies hardly ever see you... A good mother would stay home with her children. You’ve also taken it upon yourself to bugger off across the world on a fantasy vacation. P-poor babies m-my ass..” He muttered gruffly.
Mark and Dave restrained both Carol and Doug this time as Luka rolled around on the asphalt in pain.
“M-my f-flight i-is in a f-few hours..” He moaned, struggling to sit up.. “If we don’t want to miss it.. We better go..”
Elizabeth shrugged and Kerry nodded. “Kovac’s right.. We don’t want to miss our plane. Help the bastard up.”
She stooped, scooping up the keys from Luka’s pocket and tossing them to Dave. “You’re driving, Duck.. Hit any potholes and when we get back to Chicago, you’re doing dysentary duty.”
Dave grinned and helped his male cohorts drag Luka into the back seat, where the women begrudgingly held him on their laps.
They reached Larry’s Car Emporium at day-break and rousted Larry from his slumber.
“It’s fucking 4 am... Bastards.. What do you want!?” He muttered sleepily in his Daffy Duck underpants.
“We want to trade in this car for a larger one. Something to fit us all.. Comfortly without wanting to kill each other.” Stated Elizabeth plainly.
“Oh.. Lady.. Come back when we’re open..” Larry muttered angrily turning to go inside when he heard the sickening thump of a body hitting dirt.
He swivelled quick on his heel and saw a badly beaten man laying on the ground outside the car.
Dave grinned. “You know this bastard?? Says he’s your cousin.. IF you don’t want to end up like Kovac here.. I’d suggest you show the woman some cars.. Capiche??”
Larry nodded nervously. “Y-yeah.. Okay.. I.. Let me get some clothes on..” He disappeared in the house and returned a few minutes later in a grey sweat suit and duck-boots.
“Okay.. Okay.. Here.. Here’s a nice slightly used VW bus..” He stammered
nervously.
The gang looked at the rusted heap suspiciously and looked over in
his garage.
Benton shook his head. “No way.. Give us...” He looked around. “That.. Give us that one..”
Larry’s jaw dropped. “But-but-but....”
Elizabeth glared at him. “But what, baldy!?”
Mark gasped. “HEY!!!!!”
“Mark.. I wasn’t talking to you!” She snapped angrily, turning her attention back to Luka’s ‘cousin.’
“That’s MY van!!!!!!!!!!!” Larry wailed as the gang headed for his garage.
Carter grinned. “Exactly. That means. It’s gotta be good.. Not like the other pieces of crap you showed us.. Where’s the keys!?”
*****
A few minutes later they were peeling down the highway in a new Dodge Durango and Dave was singing at the top of his lungs, more off-tune than usual since his Q-tip accident.
“Cuz I’m just a teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen-age dirt bag Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaby!!!!!! I’m just a teenage dirt baaaaaaaaaaaaag!”
It was then that the wrath of Kerry Weaver’s cane caused utter demise to the stereo equipment of another fine automobile. Yet again.. Everyone cheered.
*****