Another idea floating around in my head, plan is to do small character intro sketches like this when I have the time. As always, let me know what you think.
August 8, 2010;
30 minutes ago:
“Come on Em, show me your…”
“Brad, I’m not going to show them to you, besides shouldn’t you be watching the road?” Emily Peterson shot back.
“Jason’s watching it for me, right man?”
“Yeah,” Jason giggled.
25 minutes ago:
“Don’t be such a party pooper, Skip,” Brad said, peering at the fifth passenger through the rear view mirror.
The fourth was Jen, Jason’s girlfriend, who was passed out, leaning on Skip’s shoulder. And drooling.
“Yeah, don’t be such a pooper man,” Jason, at that stage of drunkenness right before getting sick, said, before taking a pull off of the Bud Light in his hand.
“I mean, you didn’t have a single drink at the party man, and that was some good shit too,” He pulled a joint he had swiped from the party out of his pocket and passed it to Jason, “Light this up!”
“I was supposed to be the designated driver tonight, remember?” Skip replied. “That was before you duct taped my wrists together.”
Jason brought the joint to his lips and took a long drag before handing it back to Brad. “Yeah, that was a great idea.” He laughed.
20 minutes ago:
“Faster!” Em shouted after her second hit off of the joint.
Brad pressed down on the accelerator as the came out of a curve, a straight stretch of country road before them.
“Ok, man. I’m done, let me out,” Skip said from the back seat, where the puddle of drool had only grown larger, and now his left arm was falling asleep from Jenny laying on it.
“No can do man,” Brad replied, gunning the blue 1969 Camarro.
17 minutes ago:
“WOOOOOOOO!” Jason said, his head out the window.
“You’re gonna lose your hat man, come back in.” Brad said, leaning over to pull his best friend back into the car. Only he did not let go of the steering wheel, and as he leaned, the car swerved to the right, the drivers side wheels buckling due to the rusted axel and the newly exerted torque, sending the car rolling, side over side.
On the second rotation, Jason, who’s head still lolled out the window, was killed as it was crushed.
Because he was leaning over, as the car tumbled out of control, Brad’s spine snapped in three places as he was shaken like a rag doll.
Skip, who was in between the girls, with no seatbelt on, and his hands bound by duct tape, was thrown against Jenny, and then passed through her, and the car’s door.
Both of his wrists were broken as he landed, and he smashed his head on the concrete, blacking out, face down.
“This one’s alive!” the paramedic known as James Garner shouted to his partner, Joe Robert ‘JoeBob’ Hatchkins.
“Well, he’s the only one.” JoeBob, said, rushing to his partner’s side. “I called the sheriff, he’ll be hear soon. I’d hate to be him right now.”
“You know, with him being thrown from the car like this, I figured he was done for.” James said, more to himself than JoeBob.
“Do you know who it is yet?”
“No, go get the gurney,” James said.
JoeBob, showing a lapse in judgement, ignored his partner and reached into the victims pants pocket and produced a wallet. “Shit! No, no….Ahh Skip, mom’s gonna kill me.”