God, I was glad the convention was finally over. I slid into the back of the taxi, let go a long sigh of relief, and said one word, “Airport.”
Unfortunately, the cab had barely rumbled out into the street before the driver cranked his head around and opened his yap.
“Say, you're that Evil Editor guy, aren't you?”
I gave him the barest of nods.
“It’s great to meet you! My name’s Kim Luckman, but I hate that name. My friends all call me…”
“Let me guess, Lucky.”
“No. Spike,” he said, taking off his cap to reveal a Mohawk haircut greased into multi-colored spikes. “Anyways, the reason this is so cool is that I’ve written a great book, and since we have a twenty minute ride to the airport, I can tell you all about it. What could be better than that?”
:”Something like, KEEPING YOU EYES ON THE ROAD!”
Spike gave a glance forward. “Shit!” he yelped, simultaneously swerving, blasting the horn, and flashing the finger. He laughed, turning back around again. “Alright, so back to the book. See, it’s about this old lady who’s got crazy tattoos and rides a Harley Sportster, who takes a tour across the badlands and meets up with some Hell’s Angels who give her shit because she has a big stuffed lion named Linus riding in her sidecar. Remember that old cartoon song from the sixties – ‘Linus the King, Linus the Star, Linus the Lion Hearted!’”
“How could I ever forget that?”
“Yeah, I figure this story has it all: A feisty old lady, a loveable lion, some crazy Hell’s angels, and…”
“Hopefully not an orangutan named Clyde.”
“No. Just a run-in with a pack of weredingos
“WEREDINGOS!” I exclaimed, pulling a contract from my briefcase. “I like the sound of that!”