The Driver's Guide to Hitting Pedestrians Read online

  The Driver’s Guide to Hitting Pedestrians

  Andersen Prunty

  LIFE IS FULL OF PAINFUL THINGS.

  THESE ARE MY FAVORITES.

  The Driver’s Guide to Hitting Pedestrians copyright © 2011 by Andersen Prunty

  Cover art copyright © 2011 by Brandon Duncan

  This book was originally published by Lazy Fascist Press

  Also by Andersen Prunty

  Sunruined

  Hi I’m a Social Disease

  Fuckness

  The Sorrow King

  Slag Attack

  My Fake War

  Morning is Dead

  The Beard

  Jack and Mr. Grin

  Zerostrata

  The Overwhelming Urge

  Contents

  The Driver’s Guide to Hitting Pedestrians

  Pain: Pedestrians

  The Laughing Crusade

  Pain: Laughter

  Architecture

  Pain: Work

  Chainsaw Mouth

  Pain: Teeth

  Napper

  Pain: Consciousness

  Princess Electricity

  Pain: Light

  The Balloonman’s Secret

  Pain: Longing

  Reading Manko

  Pain: Authors

  Alone in a Room Thinking About All the People Who Have Died

  Pain: Death

  The Tailors

  Pain: Pants

  The Champion of Needham Avenue

  Pain: Winning

  Teething

  Pain: Rebellion

  Toss

  Pain: School

  Where I Go to Die

  Pain: Fate

  The Ohio Grass Monster

  Pain: Friends

  The Cover-up

  Pain: Fathers

  Lost

  Pain: Mustaches

  Dog in Orbit

  Pain: Relationships

  Two Children Who Want to Drive Off a Cliff

  Pain: Childhood

  Rivalry

  Pain: Neighbors

  A 3-Legged Dog Dying of Cancer

  Pain: Pets

  Divorce

  Pain: Separation

  The Melancholy Room

  Pain: God

  The Driver’s Guide to Hitting Pedestrians

  1.

  The pedestrians are out of control. They travel in packs. Snarling, hooting, legs like tree trunks.

  2.

  The drivers are lonely. I am a driver. I am lonely as fuck. No wife. No children. No home. I have sacrificed everything for Sunset 6, my van.

  3.

  My van is so named because of the six airbrushed sunsets emblazoned on it. The red blood of pedestrians, drying to a dark brown, looks good mixed with the various hues of orange and yellow. I used to wash the blood off every night before going to park in the alley. Then there were other drivers, more pedestrians, something involving the Internet and government subsidies. Ritualistic vehicular manslaughter became a game, complete with cash prizes. Evidence became a trophy. And while everyone was far from cool with it, the opposed were in the minority. Boring, passive little shits.

  4.

  It goes like this. Every time a driver hits a pedestrian, he or she earns points. It’s very simple. A pedestrian is only safe when he or she is in his or her house or car. Not all pedestrians are pedestrians all the time. However, because everyone who owns a smart phone is always in the system, the more time a pedestrian spends walking, the more his or her value increases. In other words, the more points a driver gets for hitting them. All drivers get points for hitting pedestrians, but you can tell the really serious drivers. We’re the ones with custom vans, our identities airbrushed or enameled on the side of our vehicles. The most serious of us rarely even leave our vehicles. The pedestrians with the highest point values are usually in rural areas or metropolitan areas. Rural pedestrians simply have to walk farther to get to things and most of them have land to walk around on. Some metropolitan pedestrians don’t even own cars, so they walk all the time, really racking up the points. I tend to stick to the cities because the volume is greater. I can usually take out four or five pedestrians a day.

  Okay, so “take out” is a little strong. I usually just hit them. The goal is not to kill them, although that does happen at times. To kill a pedestrian ends in a point deduction. After hitting them, it’s up to the driver to get them to a hospital. Our country is greatly underfunded. Ambulances are rare. Fortunately, because our country is more or less run by insurance companies, hospitals thrive and the game is great for business. Death is cheap compared to a near fatal impact.

  5.

  So here’s the situation. Each month is a different round. It’s currently June. Round 6. The round ends at the end of the month, both a pedestrian and a driver winner are declared, and the cash prize is paid out. I have yet to win, although I keep getting better. I’m currently in third place. It’s the final day of the round. I’m in Dayton, Ohio, home of the pedestrian leader, Omar Hidalgo. I figure I either need to hit ten regular pedestrians today or one Omar Hidalgo. Dayton is not a huge city, so Hidalgo shouldn’t be impossible to find. There are other pedestrians to hit and there’s a hospital right on the edge of town. Meaning that, after each hit, I won’t have to spend an inordinate amount of time shuttling the victims back and forth. That’s a pain in the ass and another strike against a rural pedestrian hunt.

  But the pedestrians here are even more savage and out of control than the pedestrians across the rest of the country.

  6.

  I’m squatting down in the back of Sunset 6 shitting in my man-size litter box when the first wave of pedestrians hit. They slam into the van, come at the tires with sharp objects, attempting to disable it. They could be acting on their own or they could be working for Kathy Coffee or Frank Unicorn. Kathy Coffee’s currently in first place. She drives some kind of delivery truck with a steaming cup of coffee painted on the side. The steam from the coffee spells out the word “KILL”. I’ve never met her but she seems like a badass. Frank Unicorn holds second. He has a purple van with teardrop windows and a ferocious unicorn, equipped with an abnormally large penis, airbrushed on the side. It’s my opinion that Unicorn has cheated his way to the top. Mostly by paying off feral pedestrians to take out his competition. Whatever he’s paying them would be a drop in the bucket compared to his cash prize if he actually manages to win. It’s a risk. It’s a gamble. But it’s strictly against the rules to make physical contact with the other drivers. To do so is instant disqualification.

  I hope to make sure he loses.

  I crank open the back window of the van and shout, “Get away, you little fuckers!” hoping they’ll think I’m threatening. Hoping they won’t realize I’m squatting down, my pants around my ankles, my ass hanging over a box of cat litter.

  Surprisingly, they run off. One of them shouts “That’s for the Unicorn!”

  I’ll fuck them up if I ever see them. They don’t know what Sunset 6 is capable of.

  7.

  After thoroughly Windexing my ass and giving it a quick wipe, I grab my phone to see where things stand. I’m still in third place, but only by a pedestrian. Hidalgo is still on the loose. Unicorn is in Dayton as well, which is just what I thought given the gang he sent to rough up Sunset. Coffee is in New York. That could be bad. She could hit pedestrians all day long in New York. But there’s a lot of congestion there, meaning she will spend a lot of time stuck in traffic. But she has a ten pedestrian lead on me and a nine pedestrian lead over Unicorn. There are, however, several superstar pedestrians in New York. If she hits one of them, there is no winning.
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  And while I’m checking these stats, Unicorn has managed to take down two peds. A twofer. Rare and powerful.

  I need to get moving.

  I hop out of the van to give it a quick survey. To see how many tires the peds managed to take out.

  It’s only one.

  I can change that in no time.

  8.

  I change the tire and hop back in the van. Nothing’s changed. I have a considerable lead over fourth place and with this being the last day, everyone else has probably given up. Luckily it’s a Wednesday so people have to go to work. Otherwise the peds would just stay in.

  I fire up the van, slam it into gear, and roar out of the alleyway, anxious for some kind of satisfying contact.

  9.

  I turn the music up really loud. The van vibrates all around me, an obnoxious and protective lover. Something that is wholly mine. I scan the sidewalks looking for prey. I barrel through intersections and take turns on two wheels. I speed through 25 mph neighborhoods at 70 or 80. I run a hand through my greasy hair, sip my coffee that I roast in the van and brew over the heat of the engine, make and consume a sandwich from fixings I keep in a cooler between the seats, check my phone repeatedly, and think it would be cool if I had someone to talk to.

  What will I do if I win?

  Buy some fucking friends.

  10.

  Hidalgo might be staying in today. But he’s a superstar ped. He needs the challenge just like we need the challenge. Probably for the same reason Coffee hasn’t hit anyone all day. They’re both toying with us. Meaning Hidalgo is probably looking for me as much as I’m looking for him.

  Unless he’s looking for Unicorn.

  11.

  Unicorn hits his third of the day and it isn’t even noon yet. He’ll be at the hospital shortly. Hidalgo might be there too.

  I head for the hospital.

  On the way, I roar through an intersection at Wayne and Wilmington. In my rearview mirror, I see a man cautiously step out into the crosswalk. I slam on the brakes and punch it into reverse. Anticipating his possible retreat, I turn the wheel slightly and hit him straight on. He drops out of sight so I miss his impact with the ground and the subsequent roll. The possible blood spray. I log the hit in my phone and get out. I throw open the back doors. The ped is crumpled on the street. It’s possible his hip and maybe an arm are broken. He might be in shock. I check to make sure he has a pulse and when I feel it thudding faintly in the side of his neck, I hoist him up and toss him into the back of the van.

  He’s trying to talk to me. Saying pitiful things like he’s in a lot of pain and I busted him up real good. As we get closer to the hospital he becomes more abusive, telling me he hopes it’s worth it, that he really hopes I win since he’ll never be the same again.

  There are a lot of things I want to say to him but I don’t. I just say, “Don’t die,” and turn the music up louder to blot his pathetic voice.

  12.

  I pull up to the hospital entrance. Because I’ve already logged it into my phone, there are two nurses waiting with a wheelchair. They can’t get the ped out of the van fast enough. I’m opening the back doors and I think I’m yelling at them but I can’t even hear myself over the music pouring out of Sunset so the whole thing is just a furious blur. I hop back into the driver’s seat and quickly turn around.

  Unicorn passes the intersecting street right in front of me. He must notice me too. He stops and backs up, right in front of me. Goading me.

  And I notice his van has two additions and something inside me breaks.

  I turn the music down and then off.

  I sit in the cab of Sunset and even the sounds of the city around me fade away.

  It’s just me, the gentle idling of Sunset, and my anger.

  13.

  I wasn’t always a serious driver. I used to be a sometime pedestrian and sometime driver just like almost everyone else. I was married and had a wife and a house and all that. My wife’s name was Peggy. She died. Hit by another driver while she was in her car. An honest accident. Something that almost never happens now.

  Her face was now painted on the airbrushed unicorn’s ass.

  That was the first addition I noticed.

  14.

  The second addition was Hidalgo. He was on top of Unicorn’s van. He looked at me and made a jerking off motion before slapping himself back down onto the roof, probably securing himself with spikes driven into the steel.

  It was, in a way, the safest place for him to be. Since he was untouchable in his place as the pedestrian leader, he didn’t necessarily need to spend the day out walking. He could play. He could goad and chide just like Unicorn was doing. Unicorn couldn’t hit him if he was on top of his van. And for me to hit him would mean hitting Unicorn as well.

  Unicorn peels out and I follow him.

  15.

  My blood is up. This is the end game. Something has to happen and I’m trying to work something out in my head. I grab a handful of coffee beans and pop them into my mouth, crunching and swallowing them. I wash it all down with some moonshine I keep in the glove compartment. I strip off my shirt. I want to wear the blood of Hidalgo. And, perhaps, once the game is over, I’ll want to wear the blood of Unicorn as well. There is absolutely no game law stating that I can’t beat him to a bloody pulp in a bar fight.

  Unicorn speeds onto Route 4 heading west and out of Dayton.

  I feel drunk and boastful.

  I don’t have any friends but I have a few living family members scattered throughout the globe. I systematically punch their speed dial coordinates into my phone—it doesn’t even matter which one I’m talking to—and shout ridiculous things at them. I ask them if they’re watching this shit then say of course they are, everyone is. I tell them I drive to win and I’m going to win everything. I’m going to win the moon and space and existence. I feel blood coursing through my body and pounding in my head. It feels like all of my hair is standing on end. I tell them I am an electric man here to drive lightning bolts into the faces of my enemies.

  I slam my phone onto the center console so hard it almost breaks.

  Back on with the music. Up loud.

  Down with the accelerator, keeping a safe distance from Unicorn so he doesn’t slam on his brakes and force me to hit him. To come all this way and be disqualified would be like suicide. Losing to Unicorn would be like snorting a pile of my broken teeth.

  16.

  We’re barreling down the state route and it’s gray and humid and threatening rain and I think this might be a good thing. It might loosen Hidalgo’s grip. The rain will sting his face and his eyes. If he comes off that van, I’m nailing him. Hopefully not hard enough to kill him.

  Unicorn comes to a screeching halt and I almost plow into the back of him. He’s disabled his brake lights. Hidalgo slides forward, in front of Unicorn’s window now, but he maintains a grip on the spikes. Unicorn backs up and slams on the brakes. Speeds forward and slams on the brakes. This continues several more times. I’m not sure what I have to do other than stay out of the way. I check my phone. Coffee still hasn’t hit anyone. Then again, the more Unicorn and I dick around, the greater her chances of winning.

  The more Unicorn goes back and forth, the less likely it looks that he’s going to loose Hidalgo from his handholds. I need to think of something else to do. Maybe drive back to Dayton and see if I can find one of those packs. Maybe take out five or six peds at a time.

  But being this close to Hidalgo is maddening.

  Unicorn being this close to Hidalgo is maddening.

  Peggy’s face on that unicorn’s ass is maddening.

  17.

  I pull alongside Unicorn. He goes backward. I creep forward and stop. He speeds forward, probably not even thinking and slams into the back of Sunset. And like that, he’s disqualified. I’m in second now. Hidalgo goes sliding over the top of my van and onto the road in front of me. I punch the accelerator but it takes Sunset a second to leap forward and Hidal
go is already out of the road.

  He has to be hurt. I don’t see any sign of him.

  Until I look in my rearview mirror.

  He’s leaping into the passenger side of Unicorn’s van and Unicorn is then driving around me, steam billowing up from his hood.

  I’m not really sure what just happened.

  I check my phone and find out that Unicorn is indeed disqualified.

  Coffee still hasn’t hit a ped.

  The smartest thing to do would be to drive back to Dayton and hit as many pedestrians as I can.

  But Hidalgo is right there in front of me.

  I just need for him to get out of Unicorn’s van. I’m not sure this will happen. Most of our vans are well equipped and capable of keeping the driver comfortable for at least a week. Why the camaraderie between Hidalgo and Unicorn? Doesn’t Unicorn harbor some kind of resentment toward Hidalgo? If it hadn’t been for him clinging to the roof of his van, he might have stood a good chance of winning.