No Cognitive Defect - Part IX

No Cognitive Defect - Part IX

By James M. O'Meara, © 2008

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Anita's lifeline...

For the second time in his life, Evan rolled a vehicle down an embankment in a snowstorm. The first accident happened when he was eighteen, and it wasn't really so much a snowstorm as a hard-hitting, furious squall. He was driving his mother's car. The road was icy-slick, but he'd driven in worse. There was a bottle of dandelion wine between his legs. Benny Gustav was in the middle of the front seat, Robbie Magoon by the passenger door, and they were each working on their own bottles of homemade wine, cloudy bottles of gut-rot bought from an old woman off Arbuckle Road. She sold them out of her cellar to anyone old enough to reach the doorbell and had dozens of flavors to choose from. There were always rows of tiny paper cups across a workbench, and the old woman would pour samples in the cups so they could take a quick hit and decide which poison to buy. He was partial to the dandelion. Robbie liked the rutabaga. Benny said they all tasted like cat piss, and he tried a different flavor each time. The air in the cellar was always thick with tiny flies of some sort, and the room where the wine was made was cool and damp, even in the heat of summer. The accident that day wasn't caused by the wine…he'd had but one sip. It was caused mostly by Benny Gustav's knee, with the weather playing a bit part.

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