First off, I would like to explain that Jake is a hired man, from the driving school and not my neighbor. Mom thinks that a few people may have been confused on this point. May the confusion stop and only enlightenment continue.
Anyway, enough with the suspense. You must understand that I did not… I cannot make these stories up…
Jake, The Rude Story Teller.
On the first day of driving with Jake, there were no stories. He mostly just yelled at me. It went like this “GET YOUR SPEED UP ELLEBEE.”
Jake: ELLEBEE, GET YOUR SPEED UP. YOU HAVE TO GIVE ME SPEED!
Me: I am driving the speed limit.
Jake: GIVE ME SPEED, ELLEBEE, GIVE ME SPEED, is this not English? GIVE ME SPEED ELLE. THAT’S THREE TIMES. Listen, Elle, if you’re not going to do what I tell you, YOU CANNOT DRIVE WITH ME… GIVE ME SPEED.
Mental Me: I’m sorry I cannot help you with your drug problem, that would be two broken laws in one car and I do not approve.
Real Me: okay.
Jake: LEFT ELLEBEE LEFT! YOU HAVE TO SLOW DOWN BEFORE THE LEFT TURN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Me: I guess I had given you too much speed.
It just went on like that forever. It was really terrible.
On the second day of driving with Jake, I got my first odd conversation:
Jake: So, how ‘bout that military, eh? I mean, what the hell are they doing over there? I’ll tell you: NOTHING. Killing babies, that’s what.
Me: My father is deployed.
Jake: *moment of stunned silence* See that hotel?
Jake: It’s haunted, you know that right?
Me: I didn’t know that.
Jake: It is. Gawd, I’d love to see a ghost. What a life altering event.
Jake: I just want to shut myself up in a haunted place and wait ‘til something comes by.
Me: Shall we head back to the high school then?
On the third day of driving with Jake, my dear friend BabyDoll (she is little like a BabyDoll. BabyDoll isn’t her real name because that would be odd and maybe a little on the stripper-ish side…no offense if you are in fact a stripper or named BabyDoll) was doing an hour of observation.
BD: ElleBee, isn’t the ROTC ball tomorrow night?
Me: YES I’m sooo excited!
Jake: We used to do square dancing in gym.
*another moment of stunned silence at the image of Jake, THE Jake, all three hundred pounds of him dancing*
Jake: There was this girl that always used to try to dance with me. But, ehhh, I never wanted to dance with her. Ya know? She had those things on her hands, bad stuff.
Jake: YES! That girl used to trick me into dancing with her. Awful, awful class. I liked the football better, star quarter back, and she kept trying to dance with me, gym teacher fell for it too.
Mental Me, and surely Mental BD: WTF?
*my phone began vibrating in my pocket as BabyDoll’s breathing became uneven from holding back laughter*
Jake: But that’s where I got all my confidence. After high school I started clubbing. I found it wasn’t as much fun when I didn’t get out on the floor. Never went home alone. Used to bring my buddies out. They didn’t have as much fun as I did. They never wanted to put themselves out there and ask a girl. What’s the worst she’ll say, NO? LEFT ELLEBEE.
BD: Ahhh. *cough cough cough hack*
Jake: One of my buddies got reaaaal mad at me for no reason. Got jealous. He was tired of going home alone when I never had to.
It went on like this for an hour. By the end of the hour, my phone had vibrated under my butt seventeen times. All of the received text messages were from BabyDoll. Most of them didn’t make sense, I think she was blinded by tears of humor and couldn’t type out what she really wanted to say. But I got the point; it was “what a load! I CANT BELIEVE HE THINKS WE WILL BELIEVE THIS! WE HAVE A LOT TO LAUGH ABOUT IN BIO TOMORROW!!!!”
On the fourth day of driving with Jake he told me about his dog, Licorice. When Jake was eight he had Licorice, and he loved Licorice. I was surprised that he had a pet that he loved. I was surprised that he had, could, or even ever bothered to love. Anyway, there was this guy that used to speed through the neighborhood and Licorice, poor Licorice, loved to chase cars. One day Licorice chased said Guy. Said Guy swerved to hit Licorice and Licorice died.
I was so sad to hear about Licorice. What would I do if that happened to my own dear Bubba, or Yappy? It was a touching story. Until he finished it.
The end goes like this:
But then, a couple of weeks later said Guy was speeding down the road, ran into a tree and died. HA HA HA.
Jake began to make me uncomfortable.
On the fifth day of driving with Jake, I had a surprise double lesson with him.
He yelled at me for two hours.
I do not get yelled at. I live with Reasonable Adults that will explain with adult words if I have done something wrong. And I will understand and fix it.
Jake is not reasonable.I don’t think he is an adult either.
He yelled at me when I squinted, so I wouldn’t be blinded by passing headlights.
He yelled at me when I paused too long as a stop sign.
He yelled at me from the moment I got into the car until the moment I got out.
The only time he wasn’t yelling at me was the fifteen minutes when he had me stop in a parking lot in front of a scary decrepit building. I thought surely it was the end of ElleBee. But no, it was just Dinner Time. And he got out, got dinner and crunched noisily in the passenger seat until we got back to the school. I got out of his car and into Mom’s and cried. It was terrible.
Mom bought me Cheer Up Sushi that night.
My next lesson was with Mr. Driving School Owner himself. I liked Mr. Driving School. He was cheery and listened to me and explained to me with reasonable adult words when I did something wrong… not unlike a real, live, Reasonable Adult. He asked me and BabyDoll about Jake, and we told him all about his weird stories and his yelling and pit stops at decrepit buildings and making young school girls cry. Mr. Driving School nodded wisely and chuckled, you know, like Santa Clause might, or perhaps any kindly and not angry elderly man with a beard. The angry bearded gentlemen don’t usually chuckle, they prefer a few choice swear words and a violent poke or random stabbing movement through the air, this movement is usually done with an index finger, or if the elderly man is lucky enough to own one, a cane; the movement can also usually be found coupled with a catch-phrase, like Grandpa’s “LOOK!” But you know the kindly sort that I was originally talking about before I so rudely interrupted myself.
The lesson after that, there was a new car in front of the high school and I met Bob, I liked him very much. And it was Bob who told me that not long after BabyDoll’s and my stories had reached the ears of good hearted Mr. Driving School, Jake got the boot. Bob and I then spent the rest of the hour trash talking Jake. I think we will be good friends.