My Kind of Cliche

The last gray rays of Autumn chiseled through the cloudbank and wove their way through clawing branches to hit the back of the car like a spotlight through a magnifying glass. The smell of pumpkin pie hung in the air and a horn honked in the distance. The car drove off an edge and landed in a sea of red and orange leaves. Footsteps crunched away from the little red car, but even on its back, the wheels still turned.

It was like the world. Turning through Autumn to Winter and Spring, the pages flew off the calendar like a gust of leaves caught up in a whirlwind. The days rolled ever onwards and the little car lay abandoned on the side of its road. Flowers bloomed around it. Dazzling daffodils sprung up. Dandelions blew their toxic fluff, inciting hay fever in the weakest of our generations. With Spring came change for the little car bogged down by remnants of the crushing weight of snow and the rust of ages. A traveling tribal ant stomped its path across the fading red, now pink. In its wake marched troops two by two by two by two, in single file line, antennae waving. A worm wriggled by in the dirt underneath the car.

Dropping like a bombshell, a bird descended. Its feet snapped inwards to catch the worm, but all it got was the tiny toy car. It was airborne now, tires spinning in the wind. A brand new journey; Road trip.

The road trip wasn’t very far, though. The bird lost interest a moment later and the car crashed down into the gutter like a discarded core. It bounced twice on leaves, but the tires gave good suspension. If only the full-scale models could see it now! Stuck in reverse on a downwards slope.

The metal rattled as it rolled its way towards the gutter outlet. With a clink, it slipped down the best water slide ever, swerving around the tube’s sides like a corkscrew. It shot out the other side and onto the brink of a brick, teetering. Gentle winds picked up, blowing it along like a child playing with a sail boat in the bath tub.

Voices blurred as the tinny tiny vehicle rattled along down the slope. It swerved down the driveway through the feet of giants, making just enough noise to give them pause. One shifted his attention and the crème-colored couch in his grasp, staring down his nose at the escape in attempt. A smile crept across his face like the start of a fire. Before he knew it, the other movers around him were caught up in the flames. The car hit the street like a diver, slipping into the pull of the waters of the road. Lightning fur smacked down in front of it like a period. A yellow tabby cat swatted the car into a gutter. With a plink and a ploosh, it fell into the sewer.

Good bye, house. Good bye, boy. As its door swung open from the pressure it managed a feeble wave before it was swept up by the current.

Road trip, over. Time for a cruise.