There wasn't much traffic heading east, which would kind of hurt my odds in a car chase. So I swung west and lit the damned cigarette, punching at the cigarette lighter with my knuckle. I weaved a bit. Then, while wiping down the steering wheel and rear-view mirror, I weaved some more.
I could hear two or three sirens bleating far behind me, and pulled onto the 219 West. I took a moment to reflect that the day had started with omens I should have taken better notice of. I mean, I'd wanted to stay in bed, but she wasn't in it. So I didn't. Empty beds are always a bad sign.
Then I'd overscrambled and overcooked the eggs, which was the same sort of carelessness that let some gun-wielding goombah to hide in the back seat like in a dumb detective story.
I tossed the cigarette out the window. I quit, I told myself.
Halfway between two entry ramps, I slowed down and pulled the car mightily to the left, driving some poor schmuck in a Beemer into the concrete divider. He had been talking on his cell phone, after all, which was downright illegal. He needed some law and order.
I accelerated slightly and rolled right, ping-ponging an old blue Hyundai into a minivan.
There was a nice little symphony of heavy metal as dozens of cars screeched and slid into a messy little gridlock. The distant sirens remained distant.
I got out of my stolen car and ran down the embankment. As I looked back up at the latest mess I'd made, I stepped on a nail. It shot hotly into my foot.
Should have stayed in bed, I muttered to myself as I hobbled in a half-run towards the park.