By: Fifth Dentist

Something is wrong. This man driving is not the normal driver. The nice woman from New Haven who drives the car normally was missing and the man driving now was clearly not ok. The hula girl on the dashboard was worried, to the extent that a dashboard hula girl can worry.

He sped across New Haven to the Merritt Parkway and mumbled constantly. Sometimes speaking in sentences…mostly not. He had thrown a menacing looking stainless steel briefcase on the passenger seat when he got in. It just laid on the seat. Occasionally shifting as he turned.

“Five minutes! Five minutes!”

Once the man got going south on the parkway, the hula girl stopped bouncing around so wildly and he began making words that she could understand.

“Too…much…pressure. A story in five minutes? Too many ideas. But five minutes?!”

The man continued down the highway headed for New York as it turned onto the Hutchinson Parkway. She had been this way before, but not often.

“It has to stop. I have to stop it. I have to stop Him!”

The man made no sense. The hula girl was of course helpless to change anything, but could only watch until she suddenly lurched backward and wobbled when the man stopped the car; and then backed onto a parking space. She glimpsed the name of the “Hutchinson Whitestone Motel”.

“It ends in the morning. This is it.”

She saw the man get out of the car and enter the motel office. She hadn’t even stopped wobbling by the time he came back out and grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat, then entered room 13.

“13. TS-13. Ha. Fuck!”, said the man as he went inside and closed the door.

And she waited, as dashboard hula girls do. Hours watching. Waiting. No wiggle. No wobble. These times were boring, but a relief.

Hours passed peacefully.

Until a man in a Dodge Ram pulled up slowly to her left. Something to watch, anyway, aside from the shifting TV glow from room 15. The man was tall and slender. But oddly, he walked up to the door of room 13. He also giggled and muttered something about TS-13. What? Who were these guys?

He didn’t knock, but simply spoke through the door. “I know you’re in there Dentist. Why do you think you need to do this?”

The man; Dentist, evidently; peeked through the curtain to survey the parking lot and spoke from the other side. “Why did they send you? Where have you been? How did you get his truck?”

The slender man replied, “He didn’t need it anymore after we…talked. Why don’t you open the door so we can talk about this? Five minute stories aren’t so bad.”

Dentist banged on the door, startling the other man. The man gestured to the office and an attractive but slightly deranged looking maid walked toward him. Dentist shouted, “Five minutes isn’t enough! I can’t finish a quality text message in five minutes!”

The slender man spoke softly through the door as the maid kissed him on the cheek, then used her passkey to unlock the door. “It’s all going to be ok, Dentist. Relax. Here…I….Am.”

The slender man entered the room and quietly closed the door as the maid quickly returned to the motel office. The hula girl sat in suspense. No sound for what seemed like eternity until the TV glow came on in room 13 and the sound of Fox News was turned up.

Todd Starnes was doing clever commentary on a debate over a Christian Flag at a Chik Fil A. And then a dull thump. A sickening thump.

The slender man exited the room carrying the stainless steel briefcase, and laid it on the trunk lid of the car. He opened the briefcase and pulled out a bottle of Putinka. Opened it and took a long draw on the fine Vodka. He paused to peer through the back window and admire her. He looked right in her eyes. Oh God. Then he winked.

Then he set down the bottle gently, and pulled a thick pile of paper from the case. It must have been over 1000 pages. She saw the front page as the slender man tucked it under his arm…under his bear cub tattoo…and got back in the Dodge Ram.

“2099”? What was on the next page?

And the man was gone.

And she waited, as dashboard hula girls do. Hours watching. Waiting. No wiggle. No wobble. These times were boring, but a relief.