ATLAS MEETS TYRONE - A LESSON IN RACISM, RELIGION, AND INTERSTATE COMMERCE

ATLAS MEETS TYRONE – PUMPING GAS

By Erik Atlas

The huge Texas june bugs buzzed lazy around the lights under the gas pumps. It was only May and they were already out like a small army. The man stood next to his bike and pulled off his helmet, watching trucks lumber past on Texas highway 287 between Amarillo and Dallas.

Sporting a blond buzz cut hair style, steel blue eyes, a serious face, a black eye from fighting the night before, he stopped here to refuel and take some more pain killers, hoping the pain in his back would simmer down.
No one would notice his pain. They would notice his size. he was huge.

He was the legendary fighter and muscleman Erik Atlas. Life in Texas being what it is, his fortune was always a mix of good and bad. He hurt all over from a very rough two-on-one pit fight he won in Wildorado.

He beat two men to win his new bike, barely used and hardly smelled of cow shit like everything else in Wildorado. His face was cut in places and a thick black bruise hung inside his right eye. His legs were bruised and his back battered hard by the violent double teaming. But no one saw that but him. He wore a black leather jacket open in the front showing huge muscle. 
His leathers clinging to his legs made his legs look huge. They were. Atlas stood 6’5” now up to 304 pounds. He had 34” quads in those custom leather pants, enhanced codpiece, removable for special occasions.

He watched another car pull in. It bumped over the short causeway built over the wide and deep drainage ditch leading from the highway to the filling station, the engine chugging its way up the incline to the pumps.

There comes a moment when you look at another dude’s car and you think, Oh my FUCKING gawd, something horrible happened to this guy! I mean he must of had the worst divorce in the world and was ordered by a judge to cut his dick off. Then as an added punishment they made him drive this piece of shit that was rolling into the gas station.

A tall and hugely built black man climbed out of a faded and rusting red Volkswagen Rabbit. The front wheels were shining gold low-rider wheels. In glaring contrast, the back wheels were spare-tire donut replacements. The back seats were torn out so the front seat can go back far enough to let this huge man drive it.

It finally sunk in for Erik. This car was customized to make the seats go back far enough to allow this huge man to drive it. This was actually deliberate.  Like someone meant to. On purpose. It was like a lover he couldn't say good bye to. it was like those rich yappy dog owners that keep their little dog on life support for a year. It was sad. Pathetic. There was a Green Station Wagon parked on the right of the pumps. It was a terrible car and even that was better. The impossible fact dawned on Atlas.
Oh my gawd. He loves this car.

Atlas stood next to his bike holding a gas nozzle ready to fill his bike, not understanding why any man would drive a piece of shit like that on purpose.

Atlas put the nozzle into his bike, a black on black Indian Chief Dark Horse, a sweet black bike that looks like he stole it from Batman.  He started filling the tank and chuckled looking away from Tyrone.

Tyrone was a monster of muscle as well. He wore lime green gym tights that had a slashing pattern of orange tiger stripes, showing off his huge legs. He wore a red shirt with the black lettered word TYRONE on it. The shirt matched the car's color and hung from his thick pecs over his chiseled waist like a curtain. He was clearly a match to Atlas in size, but not necessarily in vehicles. His car chugged and sputtered to an eventual stop. Atlas chuckled again.

“Wats so funny boy?” he said to the biker.

Atlas froze a moment hearing “boy” slung in his direction. He kept working on his bike and the refill. In a low voice, Atlas spoke “See, I don't know everything, but I was sure you’d put the name on your shirt upsy-down so you could read it better.” He chuckled again. “Nice… car.” Grin!

Tyrone decided he’d better ignore this white pain in the ass meat-locker of muscle and privilege or there would be blood. There two rows of pumps with a large 30’ x 30’ area under the old and swaying carport. He reached for the squeegee in the bucket between the pumps.  Bug parts and gore floated in the water.  He shook the excess water from the squeegee spraying water up the leg of Atlas and turned shortly to go clean his windshield.

“HEY! Monkey boy!” Atlas shouted. “Watch the pants! They're worth more than your piece of shit car!”

Tyrone stood quiet. His arms hung at his sides and he took a deep breath. He turned, not saying a word and slung the squeegee like a tomahawk at Atlas’ head. A normal man would have that squeegee buried in his head, but Atlas, batted it away with a casual backhand.
That's it! Tyrone stalked to the big biker ready for mayhem. As luck goes on this stretch of highway, a Texas Ranger cruiser pulled into the parking lot up the ramp to the pump area. The Rangers pulled into the space directly under the car port. Chests collided and both men could feel hot breath face to face. Atlas and Tyrone had lined up on the left of the three pumps.

The two met chest to chest, stopped noses inches from each other. Neither man blinked. The two rangers climbing out of the front of their cruiser, looked over at the two men measuring their hostility. The pair of Rangers watched. One was a small guy, looking tightly packed with muscle, and his taller, far fatter partner moved slowly toward the convenience store doors. The smaller guy kept his hand on his service weapon.

As one, the two big men both looked at the rangers and mentally took an inventory of their already considerable police records wondering how much they wanted to add to it tonight.

The pump on Atlas’ bike went ka-CHUNK as it finished filling his tank. The noise was enough to break the spell of combat. The men looked at the rangers again, then at each other. Atlas slowly cleaned his teeth with his tongue and turned away from the simmering Tyrone to attend his bike. The huge simmering black man stood his ground wondering what to do next.  The cops relaxed their shoulders and walked into the store. The door opened and klunked with a dead ringing cow bell.

The hostility seemed broken.
The stretch of highway seemed cursed and you might believe that if you stayed here and watched long enough. It seemed that any peace that settled opn this place was always broken.

The rural highway suddenly erupted in sound as a semi barreled past with two cruisers chasing it. A spattering of gunfire turned everyone’s heads, both muscle men were forced to look away and pay some attention to the other possible mayhem shattering the quiet of the night.

The rangers burst out of the convenience store and jumped into their cruiser. Of course a milkshake and a soda were left on the roof of the cruiser. Their lights erupted into a blinding flash and the Rangers peeled out of the station roaring down the short ramp to follow in chase.  The drinks hit the ground.

Silence descended on the gas station. Erik could hear small pinging noises that rang out like random little bells as bigger bugs madly circling the lights overhead and collided drunkenly into the lights over and over.. “I’m waiting.” Tyrone said.

Atlas arched an eyebrow, “For…?”

“Da apology for yor words.” He said.

Atlas snickered. yea, calling any black man what he did was wrong, and deep inside he knew it. He was still pissed. “After you lick my pants clean, bitch.” The heat of their stand off resumed.
A large rig rumbled like distant thunder, slowly moving toward the gas station. The rumbling and thundering of the approaching truck increased matching the growing tension that resumed as the two big men spoke.

“The FUCK that’s happening, you meathead faggy-assed cracker….!” Tyrone erupted.

Facing his bike, Atlas nodded. He suddenly turned and KICKED the front bumper of Tyrone’s Rabbit. Atlas half hoped it would explode into parts from one kick just to prove his point that it was a piece of shit. That didn't happen. 
The shove dislodged the parking brake and it rolled down the incline across the ditch causeway and into the highway in front of the loud oncoming semi truck. The impact with the truck was loud. The car exploded into pieces, literally raining parts, hood, bumpers, and doors onto the road.

Tyrone stared at Atlas slack jawed, holding his head. He could only scream in rage, shaking with anger. “AWWWWWWWHHHHHHH!!!!”

Atlas nodded with a smug smile, with his opponent out of control and blind with rage he judged Tyrone should be much easier to beat down now. He dropped low launching a spin kick to Tyrone’s knee dropping the big black man on his face, with Atlas quickly standing. His knee landed on the back of Tyrone’s neck driving his face into the pavement hard!

Atlas spoke in a hissing voice. “I did you a favor moron! You need a man’s car,” he rose off the back of Tyrone’s head. “Not that piece of rotting childish shit that…” he never finished the sentence.

Tyrone quickly rose and grabbed Atlas’ foot as he did dumping him on his back. Screaming in frustration and fury, he straddled and mounted the huge muscle biker and started pounding him with a flurry of lightning fast high powered fists! Trying the stop the rain of punches was like trying to stop an avalanche of bricks.

Atlas managed to block some of the hits, but couldn’t stop them all. His head rocked as Tyrone screamed at him, “YOU killed BABY! How could you DO that yo crazy fukin cracker!?” Atlas’ back raged in pain from the previous abuse he received in the pit fight the night previous and the huge muscled Tyrone on top of him, compressing his ribs and back hurt!

Tyrone’s car was his pride and joy. He found that the Rabbit was the kind of car that he could repair and fix regardless of the problem and was sure it could last forever. But now, in a quick wicked moment it was destroyed, a pounded mess of aging parts strewn on the highway.

Three huge punches rocked the blond stud! Tyrone then tore at the jacket he wore, pulling up from his back and yanking it over his face, a punk way of blinding an opponent. With Atlas temporarily hooded by his coat, Tyrone rose off the big man and dropped his knee into his guts hard!

Atlas let out a muffled groan of pure pain! AUUUUUHGHHHG! With his back in spasms of pain as well as his stomach lurching. His huge arms flexed as Atlas tried shoving him off his stomach. Tyrone moved with the shove and took it to his advantage. He jumped up and drove another hard two foot double stomp into his muscled plated waist! Blinded by his jacket, Atlas was still unable to see any strike coming This one landed hard!

Working hard to counter Tyrone’s advantage, he quickly planted his legs, scooped under Tyrone’s left leg and humped his hips up hard, lifting and throwing the big black man overhead, planting his face hard on the oily pavement.

Out in the highway, the truck driver that destroyed Tyrone’s car, had leapt out of his cab looking at the wreckage of the little red car. He rushed about, holding his head. “Owmahgawd!!!” he hissed through his teeth. “Owmahgawd!!! Owmahgawd!!!” he ran around the remains of the little car’s wreckage looking for the driver. “He’s gone!”

Up on the gas platform, Atlas was quickly on his feet facing the rising black man. He shucked off his jacket revealing a massive pec shelf and powerful muscled arms. His chest was heaving from the exertion from the fight. The bruises from last night’s fight were green and blue, all over his pecs and arms.

The driver was on his cell phone screaming, “I want to report an ALIEN ABDUCTION!”

Both men stopped and slowly looked down at the driver, his insane screaming report easily heard up the short hill, and had to blink in disbelief at what was happening.

Atlas paid the dumb trucker enough attention to get popped in the jaw with a hard jab from Tyrone.  As his head rocked back he dropped his jacket on the ground. Beyond fury at the stupid white people he was forced to meet in Texas, he grabbed Atlas by the head pulling down and DROVE a knee up into his face!

The sound of his big muscled body hitting pavement echoed through the car port. Atlas rolled holding his face. Tyrone leapt into the air driving both heels into the muscleman’s guts and with all of his weight! AWUGHHH! Atlas groaned out slapping on the calves of the big man pining him to the ground. Using Atlas’ guts as a springboard, Tyrone jumped off the big man. He rolled left and right holding his guts.

Trying to get up on all fours, Atlas left himself wide open and Tyrone was in no mood for mercy. He kicked Atlas in the ribs like it was a field goal with an audible smak! He flipped the big man over to his back with the force of that kick!

“AUGHHhhhhhhh!” Atlas cried out from the pain, holding his abused core rolling on his back. Tyrone pressed his advantage and pulled the big man up nearly standing, then unleashed the power he used to ruin Mule.

His arms slapped hard around the waist of Atlas. He bent forward SQUEEZING his battered waist in his bearhug. “UGHHHHHH!!!!” Atlas howled as his ribs compressed painfully and his air was driven from his lungs and his back wracked in pain! The huge thick arms of the massive angry black man crushed deep dents into the sides of the biker. His head rocked back bearing a mask of pain.

His huge arm flexed to slam a punch in Tyrone’s face and slowed to a stop as Tyrone’s lips sucked onto Atlas’ neck, kissing there, somehow taking advantage of Atlas’ erotic weakness target.

Every man has a place that when a lover touches, kisses, caresses, it’s like a trancelock. Men have gone for his nips before but that’s not the super target on Atlas. The neck, just under the ear, lips thick and sensual licked on the big man’s neck chewing slowly and humping his hips into the crotch of Atlas.

Moaning in pain, and now moaning in pleasure. “Yu muscled fucker…” he whispered as Tyrone continued his body-wrecking squeeze.

 “UGHHhhhh!...!!!” Atlas groaned in pain, pushing on Tyrone’s face to get him off his neck, trying to break the erotic spell of manlust that he was weaving. His cock kept growing harder, eyes wide open, head back, gasping for air because of the crush and lust combination.

The bearhug was a favorite tool of Atlas. But he secretly wondered what it might be like if a man could maybe challenge him in that embrace. It was as if Tyrone knew this, or was it luck? His ribs compressed further as he was reeling in astonishment. His cock was now leaking in his custom leathers. His shoulders bent back as Tyrone leaned forward, legs collapsing under the combined drain on his power.

He suddenly squeezed Atlas hard lifting his body up, his feet off the pavement, rocking the big man’s chest into his face, and Tyrone sucked on Atlas’ neck again. The big biker shuddered in lust as his cock throbbed, trapped between them in his codpiece.

Tyrone felt the big biker dick throbbing between them and chuckled, “Man yu one horny cracker. I will fuck u tonight right here at the pumps and take yor bike for payment in killing Baby…”

Atlas’ eyes snapped open. “TAKE my BIKE!?” He won that bike with bruise and blood. The whole spell of erotic distraction crumbled. His arms flew wide and SLAMMED over Tyrone’s ears setting off a bomb of pain in his head. Atlas felt his feet hit the pavement… not waiting another second his knee lifted into Tyrone’s swaying nutsack. AWOUGHHHHH!!!! Tyrone groaned in primal pain releasing his victim.

Atlas was furious at the suggestion of taking his bike. He was going to strip and humiliate this fucker. He pulled Tyrone’s baggy shirt up over his back and blinded him by pulling it over his head. DRILLING Tyrone in the face with a knee, he dumped the huge black man onto his back, his arms tangled over his head and face blinded by his shirt.

Atlas gripped Tyrone’s tight pants now and pulled them off his thick legs revealing a huge piece of man meat. “Holy monkeyballs!” Atlas let out seeing that huge cock on Tyrone. His own cock was semi hard from the humming lust he was infected with in Ty’s bearhug. Seems Tyrone felt the same.

Tyrone thrashed scrambling blind and now mostly naked. He tore the shirt off his head and threw it on the ground beyond the pumps. He hit the trash bucket between the pumps. Because the wind in these parts of Texas here was significant, the lid was chained to the trash barrel.

Tyrone stood and tore the chain from the barrel and held the lid like a 3’ shield. He didn’t care about this piece of shit plastic lid, he wanted the chain.

Atlas rushed at him and Tyrone threw the lid at him hard! Ducking to avoid the lid Atlas tackled Tyrone. The lid sailed overhead out of the car port into the night and over the head of the trucker.

“Holeeee CRAP! Owmahgawd!!! Owmahgawd!!!” He ducked into his truck cab and pulled out a pump action shotgun. “SAUCERS!”

Atlas and Tyrone has no fucks to give about the stupid trucker and grappled on the ground on the far side of the pumps, on the other side of the Indian. The bike sat there with its gas hose still in the tank. Atlas and Tyrone grappled hard hand to hand, fighting to get possession of the chain. Tyrone tore the chain from Atlas’ grasp as the huge 34” quads of Atlas snaked around Tyrone’s waist. Clamping in a side scissors Atlas unleashed a burst of crushing pressure squeezing Tyrone’s guts in a body wrecking bodyscissors!

He squeeeeezed Tyrone’s waist so hard Ty could feel bruising muscle tears ripping into his waist. The thick muscle cased in smooth black leather flexing that thick protective armor tight! The huge legs of Atlas were so strong his opponents called this hold the DEATHSQUEEZE. The crushing hold robbed Tyrone of any air and his body shuddered under the strain of being crushed so completely.

His hands shook and the chain fell from his grasp, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to endure the pain. OOUHHHHGHHHHH!!!” he groaned out in pain from the horrible abuse he was taking.

Atlas grabbed the chain and looped it around Tyrone’s thick neck choking him. Tyrone laced his fingers under the chain at the last moment before it snapped tight, fighting for air.

Tyrone was completely naked in Atlas’ tight embrace. Atlas wore his leather pants and boots, enjoying the superior position. “I am going to fuck you, get on my bike, and head the fuck out of here.” Atlas assured the suffering black man. He squeezed a burst tighter and Tyrone’s waist nearly disappeared under the crushing pressure. UGGGGGfffffff!!!!! Tyrone gasped in agony, “MY RIBS!...UGHHHFFFFF!!!!”

Suddenly, a black car with white emergency lights rolled to the hill just below the station. Atlas saw the lights were actually white crosses, lit bright, rotating like cop lights. Both he and Tyrone were on the ground outside the pumps as Atlas crushed Tyrone.  A man in a black turtleneck sweater carrying a bible and a black flashlight with a white cross as the light jumped out of the driver’s seat.

The side of the car read, “Rapture Action Prayer Emergency – Groom, TX”

(The Groom Cross, the world’s most overdone expensive monument, made in a town crumbling from poverty. Groom spent half a million on this eyesore that can be seen 30 miles away and warns everyone that these people are all batshit crazy. Mobs of purity police wander the streets -  Note the relative size of the semi truck in the parking lot.)

The Prayerman rushed to the trucker, mildly wary of the shotgun, and for good reason. He was looking up in the sky and aiming at anything that moved, luckily the only thing moving were the thumb sized june bugs. “Citizen! I am Gaylord Peterson, Rapture Action Prayer Emergency field agent!” the man in black hissed. “Am I here in time? Have thou seen the rapture with thine own eyes?”

“What?” the trucker looked at him with his head cocked to one side, confused.

“Hast the blessed gift of the sepulchral light fallen on this ground and Raptured a man this evening?”The Prayerman sang in a churchy voice.

“What?” asked the trucker.

Deep breath, serious face, the Prayerman tried again. “Did you see someone disappear?”

“YES! He drove his car in front of my rig and then he disappeared!” he spun around in excitement and then saw the multicolored fruit salad of Tyrone’s pants on the ground, and his shirt with his name on it, tossed there by Atlas when he stripped him. “And lookie here! He fell right out of HIS CLOTHES!!!”

Gasping in a deep agonizing pain Tyrone tried to speak and could only whisper,”Get…  yu hans off my…clothes…crazy UGHHH!” Atlas squeezed him harder and choked his thick neck with the chain, Tyrone’s head rocked back unable to speak again. The Prayerman and the trucker paid then no mind anyway. Theyt walked up the short hill to the plaza under the carport. The R.A.P.E.SUV parked at the bottom of the hill.

“His clothes are off his body. He’s naked! That means…” the trucker paused dramatically.

“The Rapture?” said the preacher.

“Anal probes!” said the trucker.

“Huh good idea,” said Atlas, grinning into Tyrone’s face, humping himself into tyrone’s side. He was looking at Tyrone’s muscled up body squirming  in pain under the pythonic squeeze locked around him with his huge iron-flexed legs, at the mercy of Atlas, his cock getting harder.

“NO fuckin… way!” hissed Tyrone. “I… will… kill…u!!!”

The preacher stood now in the wide center plaza under the carport and tried in vain to explain that abductions are actually mini raptures of men being assumed bodily into heaven by JEEEzzzzuz and a sign of the end times.

The Trucker said it was definitely an alien abduction because he saw the flying saucer, and he heard all about the anal probes.

They were roughly interrupted when Atlas threw the gasping and badly weakened Tyrone over the garbage container between the pumps, balls deep in Tyrone’s ass fucking him hard.

The custom codpiece of his leathers open revealing his huge beer can thick cock ramming it in the amazing curves ass cheeks of Tyrone. The black man gasped in agony, his ribs crushed hard and bruised, the chain still wrapped around his neck, gagging and swearing every time he sucked a thin desperate breath. “FUKkk …U…. Craker…Homo… azzhol…UGRRRkkkK!” His every breath pain, and his ass invaded by Atlas’ huge cock.

The preacher froze. The trucker froze.

“It’s worse,” said the trucker.

“Yes,” said the preacher. “It is.”

“It’s homos,” they said in unison.

Atlas hammered Tyrone holding onto that chain, slamming hard and rocking his head back in a look of pure bliss. The trucker held his hand over the Prayerman‘s eyes shielding him from the sight of two muscle stallions fucking hard. The preacher pulled the shielding hand away. “It’s ok son.” He said. “I’m a trained field agent from Groom. We seen it all.” His hand slowly gripped his crotch watching for a few precious seconds more.

“GET… this fucking APE…OFF…. ME!” Tyrone gasped.

The trucker held up the shotgun, “NO no no! Don’t shoot me!” Tyrone shouted.

Tyrone had to do it himself. He grabbed the gas hose next to him and pulled. It popped out of the tank of Atlas’ Indian and dragged on the ground. In one fluid motion he swung it in a circle HARD. It came around and SLAMMED Atlas in the head! UGHHHH!

Atlas stumbled back from the surprise hit. His cock popped out of Tyrone. The chain fell off Tyrone’s neck and he gasped for air, gagging hard! Atlas was so close to breeding the black musclehead. He pulled on the hose, trying to rip it out of Tyrone’s hands. He grabbed at the nozzle and intended to choke him with the hose and accidentally grabbed the trigger. A gushing discharge of gasoline spurted out of the nozzle and washed over Tyrone’s back and head. It hit the ground spraying gasoline.

“AUUUGHHHHH what the FUCK!” Tyrone gasped sputtering gasoline out of his mouth.

“Language,” said the preacher in an admonishing tone.

Tyrone snapped his head around staring at the Prayerman , he had just about enough of stupid crackers right then. He rushed the preacher, grabbed his flashlight and BATTED the man in black across the face. The flashlight was so cheap it broke into parts. The only useful part, the hand grip, slid out of his hands and rolled down the hill and into the drainage ditch with a *splook* noise.

“That flashlight was blessed by 18 virgins, You’re going to be charged for its replacement,” said the Prayerman.  Atlas put down the hose and tapped Tyrone on the back. He had never intended to wash him in gasoline and all he wanted to do is fuck him. “Dude, lets get you cleaned up…”

“Shut your FUCKING MOUTH yu faggy assraping muscleheaded…”

They were interrupted once again by a shouting voice, “OK all you put yur hands up!” It was the convenience store clerk holding a tazer.  Atlas slowly moved between the clerk and Tyrone. “I don’t see yur hand going up fuckers!” his voice was stringy and dusted with Doritos; he clearly liked mountain dew and maybe weights 98 pounds. “Language!” the preacher lectured again.

“Brother, get to the drainage ditch,” Atlas whispered.

“Fuck yosef…” he snapped back.

“He will set you on fire…” Atlas said slowly.

Tyrone went suddenly silent and started backing away toward the ditch. The kid walked into the bay area and stood in the pool of gasoline. Atlas shook his head in wonder, moving between the clerk and Tyrone.

“I said stop nigger!” The little clerk finally found his balls and pulled his tazer and aimed down at Tyrone’s back as he ran for the drainage ditch. Tyrone would probably burn bright on just one spark, and this is central Texas and maybe folks don’t put out burning black men here. Atlas was not going to experiment.

Atlas found himself flying through the air, Like he was blocking a field goal attempt. The probe hit Atlas in the right delt and his life turned to fire, electric fire, shaking on the ground, cock hard pissin, frying hearing nothing but himself screaming.

Tyrone ran and landed sloppy in the boggy water of the drainage ditch. The current stopped frying Atlas. He grabbed the leads and threw him back at the kid. He wasn’t taking chances on the kid hitting the discharge switch again. His recharge unit whines as the capacitor recharged. “Stay down!” The kid shouted.

Atlas turned to see Tyrone emerge from the ditch, probably less flammable and breathed a sigh of relief. “So now what kid? You shot me.” Atlas noticed this unit had a second coil loaded

“I will do it agin!” he squared his shoulders.

“Do it son, its God’s justice that you came here today. Shoot,” the Prayerman said with a sneer. The boy did not waste another second. He shot. Atlas swung his hand hard trying to deflect the incoming probe. It pierced his flesh in his right pectoral and the frying burning fire seared his life to screaming shreds again!

Then a huge eruption of flames erupted in front of him. “HOLY SHIT!” he screamed. The flash was spectacular! The flames took the pump and it went up like a Lubbock Family Reunion.

He shielded his face with a muscular arm. He heard the clerk scream, standing in a flaming pool of gasoline. Both leads fired on the second shot hitting Atlas with a firey charge of juice and igniting the gasoline.

The mind ripping jolt stopped as he felt the hot flames searing his skin. Atlas scrambled from the burning wreckage of the car port gasping and holding his chest. His hands were shaking after a million volts went through him. The clerk, the preacher, and the trucker were nowhere to be seen.

# # #

“So why caint I drive?” Tyrone said wearing a very too tight black turtleneck as they drove down the highway in the Rapture vehicle.

“Because I have pants,” he said.

“That is total bullshit!” Tyrone said still angry. “Yu kilt Baby and fucked me in the ass, dam near got me set on fire and now I don’t get to drive. Because you have pants?”

He grabbed Tyrone by the hair, “LISTEN. You lost a 10 dollar piece of shit car and some truly horrible clothes. I lost a Five hundred dollar leather jacket, a brand new Chief Black Horse Indian bike, and yu want me to hand you the wheel trusting you won’t kill me?’

Tyrone pulled out of Atlas’ grip and grabbed him by the throat. “I will kill yu now maybe!” Atlas PUNCHED the gas opening this car up in speed. The speedometer passed 80….90….100….110….

Tyrone shouted, “Slow the fuck down!”

“Let go of my neck,” Atlas said gasping.

Passing 140 miles per hour Tyrone let go of Atlas and slumped against his door. Atlas brought the car to a nice 75.

Tyrone looked out of the window at the night sky. “I fucking hate yu…’ he said.

“I took a tazer for you,” Atlas said quietly.

The road rolled on.

Not turning from the window Tyrone gripped Atlas’ right hand and held it tight,

“Thank u,” he said. "It don' mean yu get to call me that shit."

“I’m sorry for my words,’ said Atlas."They won't happen again."

Tyrone nodded.

[end] 

FOOTNOTE:Last month I drove past Groom, TX. Of course, as is my custom, I don't stop. I do not do any commerce in any place so stupid as to make a cross so big it makes them look like a mob of pod people.

The people that make electric power happen, they built a run of windmills alone I-40 from Amarillo on East. They forms a chain of white towers and enormous turning windmills. They also happen to be about 30% taller than the Groom Cross, making that cross look more like a broken windmill than a warning or hopeless stupidity.