Sudden Sensibility
Purple clouds the color of fresh bruises muscled their way across the sky over George’s Car Wash.
Other teens might have found the weather depressing. But Allston was a romantic, and he thought his girlfriend Rose looked especially beautiful in the violet light.
Allston slung a wet washrag over his shoulder and smiled. “Ready to leave, Royce?” he asked, using the special nickname he only called her after their coworkers left. She was as elegant as a Rolls Royce.
Rose beamed. Two more years working at the car wash, and they could move out of their parents’ houses and get married. Once they turned eighteen, people would realize how smart and mature they were, and stop bossing them around.
Allston glanced at the touch-free, drive-through car wash behind them. He’d never been through it. Their boss George didn’t allow anyone to sit in the cars as they were washed. No employee had ever seen George in the flesh, either. Irving, one of the company’s old timers, claimed that the car wash was a portal to another world lorded over by George, and that going through it made someone older and wiser.
Irving liked to tease. He knew Allston desperately wanted to become an adult and break free from his suffocating parents. Irving was also a storyteller; he’d even started rumors that George trafficked contraband through the portal.
And yet, sometimes Allston thought about sneaking into the car wash, just to test it out.
***
Allston stood poised to lock the front door when a black sedan screeched into the lot. The driver positioned the wheels onto the conveyor belt leading into the car wash and ran toward the office.
“We’re closed,” Allston said, from the doorway.
“It’s an emergency,” the man said. “I must get…my car washed.”
He pushed Allston aside and headed for the control room. Outside, plaintive meowing sounded from inside the sedan. A pet crate had been buckled into the back seat.
“What’re you doing?” Rose screamed. The man stood in the control room. The fingers of his right hand were curled over the power switch.
“Stop him!” Allston shouted. “There’s a kitten in the back seat. We have to get it out before the car goes through.”
The man flipped the switch. Outside, the car wash roared to life. The sedan shuddered and shook as it was dragged into the tunnel and out of sight.
The customer bolted from the office. “Delivered!” he cried.
“But your car!” Allston said. “And the cat!”
The man sprinted down the street and disappeared.
***
Rose sat beside Allston in his Toyota. “Come on, Royce,” he urged. “We’ve gotta rescue that kitten.”
“But George told us never to –”
“We’re already in trouble. For letting the kitten go through.”
“You just want to see if it really is a portal.”
“If it is, we could be free. Stop getting bossed around all the time.”
Rose sighed. “Okay.”
“Great!” Allston cried. He hopped out of the car, flipped the power switch, and jumped back in just before the machine roared to life and drew them into the dark void. Three-wheel brushes descended, scrubbing at the car, and soap fell down in flurries, obscuring the windows.
***
Water pelted the car. Allston and Rose stared through the dripping windshield at a white landscape. A familiar, melancholy mewling echoed all around them.
A long-legged tan cat sat on the hood of the car. Its pointed ears were topped with black tufts. All around the car scampered ethereal creatures that resembled concentrated masses of soapsuds.
“Hullo,” the Cat said.
“My god,” Rose said. “A caracal! I thought caracals lived in Africa?”
“Indeed I did,” said the Cat. “But the General likes to immmmm-port us. For intelligent commmmm-panionship.” The Cat nodded toward the billowy creatures. “These are the Sudras, the general’s attendants.”
“But weren’t you a kitten?”
“Indeed I was. I’ve gone through the portal you see, and aged. Just as you have.”
Rose and Allston looked at each other and gasped. A furry beard had appeared on Allston’s face, and Rose’s shirt felt tight around her chest.
“We’re older!” Allston said.
“But none the wiser,” said the Cat. It leapt from the hood. “Welcome to Washingland.”
***
Rose and Allston emerged from the car, sidestepping around the woebegone Sudras, who had set to work drying the Toyota.
A wind stirred, followed by a flapping of wings, and the teens looked up to see a chariot overhead, borne by winged Sudras. It landed several feet away, sending suds and Sudras flying in all directions.
“General George,” the cat announced. “The other cats tell mmmmm-e that his mmmmm-ovement back and forth through the portal has rendered hi-mmmm daft.”
George alighted from the chariot. He had hair the color of milk, and sagging eyes.
“We’ve come to rescue the cat,” Allston managed.
“No other humans can live here. Therefore, you must be eliminated.” George raised his right fist, wielding a gold squeegee, and lunged toward Allston.
Allston grabbed the washrag from his shoulder and with several quick flicks of the wrist, spun it into a rope. He snapped the rag out and knocked the squeegee from George’s hands. Then he twisted it into a rope once more, flicking it at his boss’s cheeks and neck until the man backed away.
“To the car!” Allston shouted.
Rose and the Cat scampered into the Toyota.
“Now,” Allston said. “Unless you want me to whip you into a bloody pulp, you’ll hit the reverse button and let us go.”
Cowering, George lurched toward the control box and pulled the lever.
Allston raced toward the car, hopped in, and closed the door. The machines whirred into motion and began tugging them back into the building.
“Gosh,” said Rose, as the three-wheel brushes descended. “I guess people will try to boss us around no matter how old we get.”
“Only wisdommmm creates true freedommmm. That takes timmmme, and experience,” said the Cat.
Two more years.
Allston smiled. He could wait.
Other teens might have found the weather depressing. But Allston was a romantic, and he thought his girlfriend Rose looked especially beautiful in the violet light.
Allston slung a wet washrag over his shoulder and smiled. “Ready to leave, Royce?” he asked, using the special nickname he only called her after their coworkers left. She was as elegant as a Rolls Royce.
Rose beamed. Two more years working at the car wash, and they could move out of their parents’ houses and get married. Once they turned eighteen, people would realize how smart and mature they were, and stop bossing them around.
Allston glanced at the touch-free, drive-through car wash behind them. He’d never been through it. Their boss George didn’t allow anyone to sit in the cars as they were washed. No employee had ever seen George in the flesh, either. Irving, one of the company’s old timers, claimed that the car wash was a portal to another world lorded over by George, and that going through it made someone older and wiser.
Irving liked to tease. He knew Allston desperately wanted to become an adult and break free from his suffocating parents. Irving was also a storyteller; he’d even started rumors that George trafficked contraband through the portal.
And yet, sometimes Allston thought about sneaking into the car wash, just to test it out.
***
Allston stood poised to lock the front door when a black sedan screeched into the lot. The driver positioned the wheels onto the conveyor belt leading into the car wash and ran toward the office.
“We’re closed,” Allston said, from the doorway.
“It’s an emergency,” the man said. “I must get…my car washed.”
He pushed Allston aside and headed for the control room. Outside, plaintive meowing sounded from inside the sedan. A pet crate had been buckled into the back seat.
“What’re you doing?” Rose screamed. The man stood in the control room. The fingers of his right hand were curled over the power switch.
“Stop him!” Allston shouted. “There’s a kitten in the back seat. We have to get it out before the car goes through.”
The man flipped the switch. Outside, the car wash roared to life. The sedan shuddered and shook as it was dragged into the tunnel and out of sight.
The customer bolted from the office. “Delivered!” he cried.
“But your car!” Allston said. “And the cat!”
The man sprinted down the street and disappeared.
***
Rose sat beside Allston in his Toyota. “Come on, Royce,” he urged. “We’ve gotta rescue that kitten.”
“But George told us never to –”
“We’re already in trouble. For letting the kitten go through.”
“You just want to see if it really is a portal.”
“If it is, we could be free. Stop getting bossed around all the time.”
Rose sighed. “Okay.”
“Great!” Allston cried. He hopped out of the car, flipped the power switch, and jumped back in just before the machine roared to life and drew them into the dark void. Three-wheel brushes descended, scrubbing at the car, and soap fell down in flurries, obscuring the windows.
***
Water pelted the car. Allston and Rose stared through the dripping windshield at a white landscape. A familiar, melancholy mewling echoed all around them.
A long-legged tan cat sat on the hood of the car. Its pointed ears were topped with black tufts. All around the car scampered ethereal creatures that resembled concentrated masses of soapsuds.
“Hullo,” the Cat said.
“My god,” Rose said. “A caracal! I thought caracals lived in Africa?”
“Indeed I did,” said the Cat. “But the General likes to immmmm-port us. For intelligent commmmm-panionship.” The Cat nodded toward the billowy creatures. “These are the Sudras, the general’s attendants.”
“But weren’t you a kitten?”
“Indeed I was. I’ve gone through the portal you see, and aged. Just as you have.”
Rose and Allston looked at each other and gasped. A furry beard had appeared on Allston’s face, and Rose’s shirt felt tight around her chest.
“We’re older!” Allston said.
“But none the wiser,” said the Cat. It leapt from the hood. “Welcome to Washingland.”
***
Rose and Allston emerged from the car, sidestepping around the woebegone Sudras, who had set to work drying the Toyota.
A wind stirred, followed by a flapping of wings, and the teens looked up to see a chariot overhead, borne by winged Sudras. It landed several feet away, sending suds and Sudras flying in all directions.
“General George,” the cat announced. “The other cats tell mmmmm-e that his mmmmm-ovement back and forth through the portal has rendered hi-mmmm daft.”
George alighted from the chariot. He had hair the color of milk, and sagging eyes.
“We’ve come to rescue the cat,” Allston managed.
“No other humans can live here. Therefore, you must be eliminated.” George raised his right fist, wielding a gold squeegee, and lunged toward Allston.
Allston grabbed the washrag from his shoulder and with several quick flicks of the wrist, spun it into a rope. He snapped the rag out and knocked the squeegee from George’s hands. Then he twisted it into a rope once more, flicking it at his boss’s cheeks and neck until the man backed away.
“To the car!” Allston shouted.
Rose and the Cat scampered into the Toyota.
“Now,” Allston said. “Unless you want me to whip you into a bloody pulp, you’ll hit the reverse button and let us go.”
Cowering, George lurched toward the control box and pulled the lever.
Allston raced toward the car, hopped in, and closed the door. The machines whirred into motion and began tugging them back into the building.
“Gosh,” said Rose, as the three-wheel brushes descended. “I guess people will try to boss us around no matter how old we get.”
“Only wisdommmm creates true freedommmm. That takes timmmme, and experience,” said the Cat.
Two more years.
Allston smiled. He could wait.
