someone tries to break into the impala but The Narrative prevents them. someone comes drunkenly out of a bar and sees a spit-shined '67 impala double-parked across the road? are you kidding me?
someone who rehab-ed that thing must be loaded. they've never seen one in that condition, ever.
they stumble across the abandoned two-laned road, and peer in the smudge-less windows. across the front bench seat is an open book, motel keys, and someone--oh shit--someone has literally left their wallet. it's not even close to being hidden, just lying innocently on the driver's side, plump and worn.
their eyes skip across the street to the bar, loud and tangled with the din of laughter and music. it's playing some ozzie track now, but no one comes out. only one small tangle of people stands off to the side of the entrance, sharing cigarettes and talking loudly. they're not looking. they're not even directly facing this direction.
what follows is the most infuriating set of robbery attempts possible. they start by trying the door handle--all four--but they don't budge. they try the trunk. nothing. randomly, they try the hood, same thing. okay. they try the slipknot technique with the string of their hoodie. they find a handy wedge of wood, and try to pry the doors open that way--all four, nothing. they curse loudly, wishing that they'd brought a coat hanger to the bar tonight. they attempt something similar with an unspooled piece of chicken wire from the fence a few hundred yards away, but it's not flat enough.
finally, they pick up a rock. it's a goddamn shame, given the beauty of the thing, but they've been left no choice at this point. if the owner is stupid enough to leave a clearly full wallet on the bench, they need to be taught a lesson. maybe it's some stupid kid and this is daddy's car. hopefully daddy beat 'em blue if the car comes back trashed.
they heft the rock in their hand, about the size of their fist, a solid piece of broken-off concrete. they rear back, and throw.
the rock bounces off the driver's window, and sails directly into their head, knocking them to the ground.
ten minutes later, two guys come out of that same bar, and the would-be thief (now with comically large bump) takes cover because holy shit those guys are huge. they walk right up to the car and open the door without unlocking it. like it was never locked, at all.
oh there it is, the shorter one rumbles happily.
dean, you gotta be more careful, man, the taller one says, as he slides right into the passenger seat.
c'mon, the shorter one replies. no one's ever taken shit from baby.
