alien, Daily Prompt, dreams, driving, events, humor, serial fiction, writing

Rigabold: The Art Of Being Mature

Rigabold the pernicketness held the door of the Port Augusta service centre open for the three girls who were approaching him from behind, the same three girls who’d made the rude comment about his head after he exited the toilet. Although politeness was a custom that Tumcuddulan’s practised at all times Rigabold knew better than to expect the same from all humans and he definitely didn’t expect it from the three girls who thought the way to mend a broken heart was dinner at a truck stop.

As he expected all three girls walked past him and through the door without the hint of a thank you or even a nod of acknowledgement, in fact all three of them walked out laughing and giggling to themselves. Rose even looked up at him laughed then dropped her head and kept walking.

As Rigabold stepped through the door and allowed it to shut behind him he stepped out on to the forecourt just several steps behind the girls. He knew he probably should have left it alone and let the girls continue with their pity party that gave them the right to put all men down but he couldn’t help himself, they had annoyed him enough that his Tumcuddulan good manners decided to take a vacation.

“Hey Jenny,” All three girls looked around, he wasn’t sure if the shock was because he used one of the girl’s names or because he actually spoke to them, something he was sure girls like that did not expect. “I worked out why your boyfriend dumped you.” He paused for a second then added. “Because you’ve got a head like a horses arse!”

“What the fuck?” Jenny screeched as she stood rigid on the forecourt of the service centre not worried that other people could hear her outburst. “Where the fuck do you get off saying something like that you fucking freak!”

“Oh I’m sorry.” Rigabold said not meaning a word of it. “I figured that after you made the compliment about my head, I’d repay the favour and tell you what I think yours looked like.”

Rigabold could see the look of confusion on Jenny’s face as she tried to work out how he’d heard their private conversation.

“Why don’t you just fuck off before I ring my boyfriend and have him come down here and fuck up your head even more!” Jenny screeched still not worried by the commotion she was making.

“You don’t have a boyfriend, remember, that’s why your down here having a “we hate men pity party!”” Rigabold laughed and walked off.

He knew that he’d dropped to their level, he knew that even though he wasn’t yelling like Jenny was and therefore no one else was hearing what he had to say he was acting like them. But he also felt some satisfaction snapping back at them for their rude comments. He wasn’t under any weird illusion that he’d stop them doing it again but there was a good chance they’d at least think about it the next time they did it.

Rigabold climbed into the Dodge and sat the Chiko Rolls on the passenger seat where they would stay warm. It was completely dark and pushing towards 9pm and the temperature had dropped substantially from the heat of the day which made the seat warmer less of a requirement but still he used it anyway. His moo juice on the other hand wouldn’t need cooling so he sat that in the cup holder in the centre console and spoke to the GPS.

“Which direction would be best to travel from here? Along the coast, through Adelaide and Melbourne, or over the hills and avoid Adelaide for a more country route to Melbourne?”

The response was almost instant. Rigabold read the screen.

“Your best route is to take the Horrick’s Pass over the hills to Wilmington, down to Peteborough then across to Broken Hill and on to Bathurst where Chiko Rolls are made. Any other route is not direct and therefore wasting time.”

Rigabold laughed at the way the GPS worded his directions. Given the GPS was linked to his Stargazer and subsequently linked to the Tumcuddulan radar system he was not surprised by the response but that didn’t stop him laughing. It also didn’t stop him making up his own mind about things.

He asked the GPS to bring up the maps and show him the suggested route. Via direct route he still had fifteen hours travelling ahead of him, but he knew he was not going to take the direct route despite the GPS telling him too. He’d already made his trip into an extended journey there was no reason for him to follow direct orders now, his excuses may not be believed but like his last conversation with home they were hard to deny after the fact.

For some reason he still felt the need to go via Melbourne and via the coast, but he could see from the maps on the screen that travelling the coast from where he was could easily double his travelling time.

Rigabold quickly decided he would try for the best of both worlds. He’d also keep the GPS partially happy by following its path for part of the way, then instead of turning left at Peterborough he’d turn right and head down through the fruit growing regions and into Victorian, then on to Melbourne. He’d miss some prime coastal areas but there was always going to be something he missed.

With his decision made Rigabold started the engine, put his seat belt on and looked around his immediately area to make sure it was safe to pull out. As he pulled out onto the service road a car with no headlights on pulled out behind him and sped to catch up to him. When both vehicles were side by side on the quiet and dark service road that lead back to the highway Rigabold noticed the two side windows of the Commodore open. Next thing he saw was two bare, white arses poking out the windows.

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