Friday, April 16, 2010

Randy Rasmussen: Part VI

Opening Crawl

Chapter VI
The Quantum Distortion

It is a period of economic turmoil and uncertainty.
Competing   carriers   and   long-haul   freelancers
in  '08 won a progressive victory, a referendum of
Bush's archaic, failed national transportation policy.

In a seemingly unrelated development, the intrepid
trucker:  Randy  Rasmussen,   speeds  across  the
barren wastes of eastern Nevada, custodian  of  a
high  value  cargo of soy and gum arabic destined 
for north-central Cheyennes eraser conglomerates.

Pursued  by the sinister progeny  of  the  tragically
deceased trucker  Dick Augney, and  stalked by  
voluptuous  long-haul  banshee 'Sweaty'  Negretti,
Randy Rasmussen unknowingly encounters  a tear
in the very fabric of space and time . . . . . . . . . .

(Scene 1:  Pan downward from opening crawl to a custom Peterbilt approaching  a poorly lit UHP weigh station on the southern Utah / Arizona border.  The rig rolls to a stop and after a moment, our hero opens the door and climbs down to the recently repaved tarmac.  Stretching his back and stiffling a yawn, Randy strides toward the weigh station office)

Randy "Dave" Rasmussen: (to the desk clerk)  Hiya doin?

Trooper Clyde Barnett:  Good morning sir, what can I do for you?

Randy:  Well son, I got me a load of soy and gum arabic for one of those eraser factories in Wyoming and I sure as hell mean to see it through by dawn, but I gotta take me a leak.

Trooper Clyde:  Down the your right.

(Cut to scene 2:  Inside a custom Keworth somewhere in the Arizona badlands, 'Sweaty' Alice Negretti, clad resplendently in a pair of black leather hotpants and nothing else, sleeps fitfully)

'Sweaty' Alice Negretti:  (talking in her sleep)  Sonofabitch.....why wont you take me?

(Cut to scene 3:  moments later inside the St George weigh station)

Randy:  Godamighty my pants fit better now.  Thank you, kind sir.

Trooper Clyde:  (nods)

Randy:  Say, what time you got?

Trooper Clyde:  (checks his watch)  Just about one a.m., sir.

Randy:  (stunned)  What?

Trooper Clyde:  I said it's just about one, sir.  Sir?  Sir, are you all right?

Randy:  Trooper, are you sure about the time?

Trooper Clyde:  Yes sir.

Randy:  But thats impossible.   There's no way...

Trooper Clyde:  Huh?

Randy:  Son,  I rented me a girl tonight in Mesquite and I left as soon as I was done.

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  That was forty five minutes eleven o'clock.

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  Damn it, man.  Don't you get it?

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  Ever been to Mesquite, son?

Trooper Clyde:  All the time sir,  my sister lives there.

Randy:  How long is the drive?

Trooper Clyde:  Thirty...forty five minutes at most.

Randy:  Don't you see?  I left forty five minutes ago!  AT ELEVEN O'CLOCK!

Trooper Clyde:  (stares and blinks twice)

Randy:  Look at my watch, man!  Look!  It says 11:56!  How the hell do you figure it's almost one a.m.?

Trooper Clyde:  (blinks)

Randy:  Oh I get it.  You're in on this too!

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  God as my witness, I will figure out whats going on here.   It's got to be some sort of quantum displacement.  Some kind of rupture in the fabric of space and time maybe. I dont know much about that kinda stuff but I will figure out whats going on.  And when I do....

Trooper Clyde:  Ok sir.  Have a good night, sir.

(Randy backs out slowly and once out of Trooper Clyde's line of sight, sprints to the safety of his Peterbilt, determined more than ever to see his precious cargo delivered on time to Cheyenne)

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