Prt 1
https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15t6ziz/im_a_pro_detailer_i_just_detailed_the_car_of_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3
I really, really wish I had believed that woman when she brought her car to the shop. That friggin’, seemingly-sketchy, seemingly-tweaked-out woman. I should’ve passed on the job and let Charlie, that douche, take it. If anyone deserved to be harrassed, it was that jumped-up, has-been, paint correcting asshole.
Yet, I was the one who detailed, and was harassed by, that demon car. It was so soon after detailing the car of a murderer that I was shaken up enough to consider giving up my detailing career altogether. Like… what are the friggin odds?! Am I some sort of bad-juju magnet? Or was it the shop itself that seemed to draw the crazies and the weirdos? I had spent only two hours on that vehicle, and yet I was bruised and battered, both inside, and out. My nerves were shot and my spirit was close to breaking. The $50 tip the demon-car lady left me wasn’t near enough to soothe the wounds of abuse I had sustained. I didn’t know why this kept happening, but I left the shop that evening feeling more afraid than I’ve ever been.
I was shaking so bad I almost dropped my keys as I unlocked my old Honda and climbed inside. I took a second to catch my breath, and turned the ignition, itching to get the hell away from that shop. First Charlie, then murderers, then demons, oh my…
I peeled out, narrowly missing Charlie as he sauntered to his vehicle. “Hey, watch it, dickhead!” I heard him shout after me. I didn’t care; I could feel the relief from leaving that place all the way to my toenails.
I drove faster than I really should’ve been, but again didn’t care. I only cared about putting every mile I could between me and the detail shop of horrors. I came to myself enough to realize I needed to calm down before I killed myself, or someone else. I decided to find some tunes on the radio. I clicked on the dial, and started surfing the channels until settling on AC/DC; I enjoyed Angus Young’s 6-string antics.
I began to feel more stable, and really started getting into the song, when the dial started turning on its own accord. It flipped between station to station, faster and faster, the whiny white noise between stations growing louder and louder.
“No…” my voice was shaky with dread. “No, no, no…”
The radio settled on a song; another oldie. Sympathy for the Devil. “Oh, fuck you!” I yelled!
It’s in my car! I think that damn demon jumped into my car!
I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t take the idea of it still being with me!! I squealed the car to the shoulder, killed the ignition, hopped out of the car, and walked away. I was done. I had reached my limit for the day, thank you. I walked the rest of the way home. It took two hours. I didn’t care
***
I woke up to the sound of my cell-phone going off. Wake up call for 7AM on a Friday, anyone? Goddamnit…
I groggily reached for the device and thumbed the talk button. They better have a good reason for this…
“Hnnn… heh-hello?” I barely felt like a person.
“Hi, is this Mr. Kevin Jameson?”
“Um… yea, yea I’m Kevin. What’s this about? Is everything ok?”
“Oh! Well, generally speaking, I guess you can say everything is fine. It’s just that your car was found abandoned by local law enforcement early this morning, and I’m sorry to say that it had to be impounded. Is everything ok? Does that ring any bells for you?”
Shit. The events of last night came crashing back. I full-on left my car on the side of the road. No wonder my feet were so sore.
“Mr. Jameson? Are you still with me?”
“Um… yea… yea, um…” What did I say? That there’s possibly a demon possessing my car? Yea right. They’d impound me into a padded room. “There was… a… a spider.” I winced as the lame excuse rolled off my tongue.
There was a long pause.
“…a spider.”
“Um, yea, a big, fat, hairy spider. I’m… I’m terrified of them, you know? I couldn’t get back in the car, I was so afraid.” A long pause followed.
“Uh-huh…” Another long pause. “Well… spider, or no spider, you have seven days to reclaim your vehicle, or it’s going to be sent to the repo house. Please bring any and all ID with you when you arrive. Try to have a good day, Mr. Jameson.” There was definitely a hint of a smile at the end of that benison.
Hanging up the phone, I lay there, wondering just what the hell I was going to do. Fuck it, I thought. It seems I’m biking today.
I pulled my 6-speed out of the back of the garage. I had to pump up the tires; I kept telling myself I’d go for rides some day but never really got around to it. Not wanting to immediately claim my car, I decided to grab lunch before heading into work.
***
Jesus. Christ. That day sucked. Three full details, two of which were full of dog hair, and one required an hour’s worth of upholstery extraction. I swear, those people used their car as a kitchen. I was NOT relishing the bike home. Thus were the consequences of my choices; thus what made me decide to go in on my Saturday to deal with the impound. I mean, I didn’t know for sure if that demon had jumped to my car; I couldn’t keep the bike routine up indefinitely while working; ergo, the car was (unfortunately) the most logical course of action. Biking home that night was a trial, filled with trepidation, irritation, and a lot of swearing.
***
I chose to sleep in. I chose to spend one morning, one blissful morning, not worrying about a single damn thing. It was near closing time before I managed to schlep my ass to the impound and break my car out of vehicular prison. I was filled with anxiety as I started to drive home. I flipped on the radio to try and distract myself, and settled on a station playing some trashy pop music by some pop starlet or other. Distraction. I just needed the distraction. I just needed..
And the radio began its seizure-esque craziness again! It flipped from station to station to station, filled with static and screeching, until it finally stopped. On AC/DC. Playing Highway to Hell.
“Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding m-“
Before the words were out of my mouth the wheel of the car suddenly jerked out of my hands! Left! Then right! Careening me back and forth across the road, every hard jerk left bringing me further and further into oncoming traffic. I desperately grabbed at the wheel, my knuckles white, my hands cramping from the force of my effort to regain control. The radio screeched, shrieking, with cackling laughter and throaty growling and a low voice repeating “DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE” threaded through all the cacophony. On the next sudden veer right I slammed on the brakes and squealed to a halt, and without killing the engine I launched myself out of the car and ran, right down a nearby alley, the screeching laughter following in my ears. I couldn’t make it further than a block before my shaking legs refused to carry me, and I collapsed against the wall.
I have no close relatives, and my friends are barely a step up from acquaintances. I’m writing now, reaching out to a community that understands, a community that KNOWS about these things, a commun-
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Oh, yay. David found his phone! So many words! The young driver man wrote you all a little story! How cute! David doesn’t know what this young man was running from; whatever it was must’ve given him such a terrible fright; whatever it was sure does like to laugh a lot. Something in his car, it seems? David couldn’t see anybody, but he blew right past David as he ran down the alley, and didn’t even say hello! Cobra says that’s rude >:(. David’s guessing that’s what the young man was here to share with you, something about his laughing car.
Oh well! Laughter is all relative! Haha! :)
David doesn’t really care because there’s so-oooooo ma-aaaany words, and poor ol’ David, here, gets a little bored with stories, and cobra gets very impatient. Bottom line, unfortunately the young driver man with the laughing car won’t be able to finish his sad, sad, tale. David came up behind him while he was writing his story and took some liberties with this quaint little 2×4! By 6! By 8! Teehee!! Cobra knew just the spot, right at the base of his head, to make him stop and drop so nicely!! David will post this here anyway, as a kind gesture. Cobra always says it’s good to be kind. Cobra also says it’s time for David to focus up, so David is signing off! It’s time for us to get to working on this poor young driver man. You see, he has too many limbs; it’s disgusting, and cobra says David has to earn his time with cobra…
I’m sure David will be seeing some of you soon,
Sincerely,
David and cobra.