Get Wrecked

The Alderton Junkyard was a ghost town on this somewhat fine afternoon.

"This ain't a fine afternoon." Clyde spoke in a quiet voice, even if there wasn't a single soul in site. Still, he had heard about the Electric Bungalow, the large eerie odd Bungalow rumored to be the reason weird stuff happening in this town. "Not at all."

Clyde wasn't a perfect man, but he wasn't the best of examples here in town.

Take last Monday for instance: his neighbor complained to him about his dog Digger's barking causing a ruckus, especially at night for both the neighbor and his kids. Clyde knew his dog as both his pet and as an animal of nature, and had Digger take a dump or two in the neighbor's garden.

Actually, it was multiple dumps.

2 days ago, Clyde had also gotten away from a thing, a thing that he and another guy did, the one involving a bank in Oklahoma. It's quiet since that day.

A bit too quiet.

"They're bound to catch up." Clyde said. "The law or whatever that Bungalow plans to throw at me, if it ever throws something at me."

His heart skipped a beat as he heard a knock. With the shotgun in his arms, he began to go to the door of his office within the junkyard, and saw no one.

He returned to his couch. Seconds later, another knock, but as before, there was no one.

Clyde felt steam burst out his ears as he heard the knocking for the third time.

"WHAT?" Clyde said as he opened the door, this time he was under a lot of shade, and he looked up.

The cars, the ones that were around the junkyard, old and new, with wheels or none at all, were floating. Each of the cars varied in color, size and shape. Many were older models of the 70s and 80s. Some were 90s. In between the pile of floating wrecked cars, there were even models from the 50s. One coupe in front of him spat out a letter from front hood and landed on Clyde's feet. Picking it up, he read what was on it.

It said: The Electric Bungalow knows about the bank robbery you were in. There is no escape.

Prison would be better than this, Clyde said as he closed his eyes with each of the cars taking turns crashing him against his office. Sounds of metal clashing and banging were heard within a 10 mile radius, and soundwaves were formed. Clyde's vision went black and he felt his entire set of bones and organs being crushed and turned to dust by the impact of the hundreds of wrecked cars crashing into him.

Clyde the junkyard owner who was used to wrecking cars, was now wrecked himself.