Midnight Strike

[Brad Rose]

After the party, I climb into the driver’s seat, start the engine, and glide out, alone, onto Highway 86, heading north, away from Tempe.

 

Thank god I only had two drinks.

 

Squeezed inside its skin, like adult fingers in a child’s glove, the young Rattler lies invisibly coiled in the backseat. 

 

I cross over the Arizona Canal, notice I’m making pretty good time, then think, Shit, I left my jacket—the expensive leather one-- back at Ray’s house.....Nah, it’s gotta’ be there in the back, somewhere.

 

With my left hand on the wheel and my eyes fixed on the road ahead, I stretch my right arm into the backseat’s low-lying silence.

[Angela]

I think of snakes too much already.

[Ron. Lavalette]

An extreme snakeophobe, I almost stopped at the word rattler.  Very effective.

[Gita]

Just grab the snake right behind its head so that the jaws can't chomp down on your hand, and hurl it out the window. Then you'll be okay.