Black Cadillac

So, you want to know the story of my death. Well, John tried to light his cigarette while running away from a gang of knife-wielding druggies from the East-side, but the wind kept blowing out his lighter.

Wait, let me think. I guess I really should start with my 18th birthday.

Sylvia Gold was dating the same John, John Baker, the quarterback. I had a crush on Sylvia too, but John had a red convertible, and I wasn’t in the populars. That didn’t stop me from inviting her to my birthday party. Everyone else I invited canceled, except Sylvia. She was the nicest girl in the world. She came, even though she knew it wouldn’t be fun. My parents continued in their ‘parently’ ways; trying to humiliate me.

Now son, we’ve got a surprise for you,” my mother said as she guided Sylvia and me out to the garage. Parked, was a brand-new cadillac. “It’s safety locked so you can’t open the doors while it’s moving, and the scratch warrantee lasts a year.

I was beaming, only to find out, later, that Sylvia was engaged.

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