Knackered’s On Stakeout with Benzos

   Hey there.  Knackered here.   It’s been nearly five days and it’s still there.  Knackered first noticed it late Saturday night; mid-dawn really.  

   He’s not sure how it arrived or who brought it, but it’s highly suspicious.  And it’s sitting right across the street.  

   The thing’s a rolling wreck.   It’s certainly not going any place right now.  And, by the looks of it, it won’t be doing so any time soon.  

   These things usually get turned in to the non-emergency police number.  They get a pink invitation to move or else, but it takes at least a week or two to pull it off.  

   He knows that if the pink one is received, a red will follow.  Then it’s tow time to the impound lot.  The auto graveyard.  He’s also aware that he lives in a ‘block watch’ neighborhood and ought to be the one to take action.  The sign on the corner says as much:  ‘If I don’t call the police my neighbor will!’

   Time goes by and he decides to make his move.  Knackered has little impulse control as it is and only a bit of Benzo fuel left in him.  With the effects of WD, he’s doubly screwed.  

   Choosing pre-dawn as the appropriate time for engagement, he staggers stealthily across the street.  Pulling out his phone, he clicks twice to capture both the license plate and a side shot of the vehicle.

   He scrambles back into the kitchen to sit and sort out what he’s found.  It looks like it came from the great old state of Georgia, but was last licensed three years ago.  Knackered spotted no one inside, but the outside looks like it was last used to clear a minefield.  

   He thinks for a bit and feels sorry for someone, but in this day and age who knows what people who leave their illegal and abandoned vans around are up to.  

   As the days move on, no one comes or goes.   Knackered notices that the loft windows are fogged up and the roof ventilation lid is up.  Could someone be hiding out?  

   Finally he breaks down and makes the call.  The dispatcher speaks in a gravelly voice and fires staccato questions in machine gun style:  “Make. Model. Plate#. Occupants.”

   And finally the clincher, “Is there anybody inside?”  Did she say anybody or any body?  The ambiguity gives Knackered the creeps.  

   Time moves on and more signs of ominous premonition appear.  Knackered walks out the back door one morning to hear a cacophony of bird sounds coming from a nearby tree.  Suddenly, a flock of ravens fly out, no wait,….they’re a ‘murder’ of crows.  With the season of doom approaching, it sends chills up his spine.  

   Glancing over at the van, a phantasm of eerie expectation seems to be looming.  Something is about to happen.  

   Knackered returns inside to prepare lunch and hears his wife calling to him, “Remember that car you were wondering about?  Well, it’s gone.” How? When? Knackered was just out there and there was no sign of anything.  A visit from the paranormal? Or another moment of weirdness courtesy of the Benzos? He knows his wife saw it too….or is she just playing along to support his weary state of confusion. Should he ask?  Perhaps he doesn’t even really want to know.