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I'm riding along in the truck with Cliff to some job he wants a hand with. We blow through the stop sign at Wray and 111th because Cliff doesn't care much for stop signs, and it's just our bad luck that we clip some big old sedan on its rear quarter. Our truck somehow gets the worst of it: whole front quarter is wrecked and it can't steer, airbags out, all of that. Meanwhile, that old sedan does this wild skidding one-eighty, and I see the driver has this crazed look on their face as they work the wheel and smoke the tires trying to speed away. And I'm wondering why they're so frantic. They sure don't get too far, and run the car right into another. Goes flying, and flips upside down. Two more cars come barrelling through, swerve, tip over, slide on their sides. Another comes by, hits all three, and rolls four times. It was bonkers. You ever watched those old Blues Brothers movies? Yeah, like that.
Somehow everyone just crawls out and walks away from this, and we all sort of gather in the mud patch by the curb. Then a thing happens. Some trap door opens just past the curb across the intersection from us, and a whole horde of goblins comes pouring out of it. They head for the wrecked cars, and they strip them bare of everything not bolted or glued down. Sunglasses, receipts, masks, keys, food, boxes, tools, our test rigs, shifter knobs... everything. Take it all down back the trap door with them, close it, and that's that.
I turn to Cliff with a sort of "now what" look, but he just shrugs. He pops open this round metal box hanging around his neck by a leather cord, takes out a waffle and starts munching it. And I'm thinking the same thing you all probably are: where can I get me one of those shiny waffle boxes.
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