Krampus (classical_slut) wrote in roy_inclingfilm,

The Flat Tire

This is set in my hometown of Albany, NY. I will write another soon about Roy in Japan, which is where I'm living now. No terrapins.

The Flat Tire

Never had I seen so much rain in my life. I and my accomplice, my beloved chinchilla Passat, were driving along a slippery mountain road in hopes of finding a shortcut to the Greene County Fair. Passat seemed very uneasy in her navigator's seat, glancing over distastefully when she thought my eyes were on the road only. I could tell that she was as worried as I that we would be eternally lost on a mountain in Westerlo, with no sun or visible landmarks in the torrential downpour.

"Sorry Passat," I told her. She lifted her small nose and looked away. My heart sank knowing that she was so upset with me. I began to daydream about the fair and how she would forget this unpleasant trek in the rain once I shared my fresh baked chocolate chip cookie with her. Passat has always loved cookies and other desserts, and I always make sure that if I'm having dessert, she is too. My stomach rumbled angrily and I filled my head with thoughts of fair food: french fries sloppily coated in melted American cheese and bacon bits from a jar, funnel cakes dripping with fry grease and powdered sugar, fluffy cotton candy in every color of the rainbow. It was awful to be so hungry with nothing available to snack on, and my thoughts could not turn from food.

A loud popping sound and a sharp jerk brought me to my senses. I braked suddenly, sliding to a more gradual than is preferred halt next to a guard rail. Passat squeaked loudly, but since I always make sure the seatbelt holding her small car seat is securely fastened, her cries were of fear and surprise rather than pain.

I felt the car sink slowly and as the chassis lowered itself to the ground, so did my heart. I had at least two flat tires, no repair kit or spare tire, and even if I had the equipment, I lack the knowledge and dexterity required for this kind of maintenance operation. Rain poured onto the windshield obscuring all visibility, there were no clear FM signals on the radio, and Passat had now broken all eye contact with me.

"What should we do?" I despaired, burying my face in my hands. "Certainly someone lives near here who can help me..."

And at that very moment, I saw a pair of high beams through the rain. I flashed mine panickedly to alert the other car of my trouble. To my relief, it stopped just short of me, and I could make out through the downpour a dark silhouette. I jumped out of my car to meet this mysterious godsend.

"You need help?" a deep male voice asked. What a shock and surprise! It was Roy Orbison, the legendary rock and roller. Despite the appallingly wet weather, he was still looking sharp with his trademark sunglasses and a black jacket. I felt myself blush hard and made eye contact with the ground. The sound of rain on our umbrellas was like some kind of industrial drum loop, grey and relentlessly pounding.

"Um...yes, actually I think I have at least two flat tires, and I don't have any equipment to fix them, nor do I even know how to change a tire...and my cell phone doesn't get reception up here to call AAA..." Trailing off awkwardly, I shifted my weight to my right leg and continued staring at the ground. How dare I ask Roy Orbison to help me with my car troubles!

"That won't be a problem," said Roy soothingly. "I have everything you need in my van here. I've got three spare tires and all the tools to fix flat tires. I'm just driving around the country aimlessly, so I have nowhere to be."

A truly great man.

At that moment, Roy's umbrella succumbed to the immense force of the pouring rain. He shouted in surprise and jumped back into his van.

"Oh no! I can't ruin this jacket in the rain - it's the only one I have and I've got no money until next week to replace it. Here, I can take it off and work in my shirt sleeves..." He took off his suede blazer, exposing muscular forearms with prominent veins.

"But I can't let you get soaked!" I protested. My mind raced furiously. "Oh, wait!" I suddenly remembered: "I have a few rolls of clingfilm in my car. If you want, I can wrap you in clingfilm so that you stay dry in the rain."

Roy looked unprepared for this unorthodox solution to heavy rain for a second, but his expression changed after only a second's time. "Sure, that actually sounds like a good idea!"

"Just wait in your van then, and I will bring the clingfilm to you."

My heart began to pound with anticipation as I retrieved the clingfilm from my car and ran it back to Roy's van. Despite being chilled to the bone from the wind and rain, my body and soul were warmed by the thought of Roy being completely enveloped in heavenly clingfilm. There was enough space in the back to wrap him thoroughly, he said, and we entered the rear of the van.

"Okay, wrap me in clingfilm!" he said with a twinkle in his eye. Surely this was his first time. It was mine too, yet I was not nervous; somehow I knew exactly what to do.

I wrapped him the way a new mother wraps her firstborn in a blanket; with painstaking care and a tender sort of concern for his comfort and safety. I wrapped his left arm first, then the right, followed by his left leg, right leg, and finally his torso and shoulders. The clingfilm glistened, covering him so thoroughly and tightly that his individual arm hairs were pressed firmly against his skin.

I stepped back for a second, admiring my work, and in my heart fireworks exploded, an orchestra of all the world's finest soloists played the most beautiful song of all time, and every hair on my body stood to attention. Here stood Roy Orbison, dark glasses and all, immune from harm by rain or snow or hell on earth, protected and swaddled in several layers of clingfilm. It was at that moment that I revoked my own atheism, for science and the world of humans could not possibly know such rapture as that which I now knew!

The End
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