The bootlegging car might have had a supercharger under the hood but it was stuck in traffic with everyone else except a motorcycle flying past somehow carrying six weaving through the fine lines. The music blaring from a series of lifted limos bringing in Crazin guests loaded for the wedding. Another car made of nothing but sparkling crystal doubled as a lowrider that ground away any unfortunate terrain underneath like a cheese grater.

“Dangit, this wedding is going to set records and I hate crowds and cities like nothing else,” said Jed, punching the steering wheel in frustration.

“Awe you humbug we’ll be fine after getting to the hospital, chill and listen to the radio,” said Bessie.

“Fuck it you need medical attention yesterday this is still bad,” yelled Jed.

“Shut up dude already it won’t change what time we get to the hospital.”

He was cut off by the screams before a chugging breakdown of metalcore (It was D.D.P’s first album before they sold their souls).

“This is cutting up your family members crap, turn that off, don't you like a groove found in country western music or soothing an already agitated soul with relaxing miracle raps,” complained Jed, reaching to change the dial.

“Hey I love all genres while you sir are very close minded,” said Bessie, slapping him away from changing her favorite angsty teenage tunes.

“I just have good taste in music,” observed Jed.

The current music went “RARAHRAAAAAAAAA!” right in his tinnitus scared ears.

“BEEP!” added a tailgating vintage truck to the assembly mix while the blast beats rattled his skull and bones.

“AAAA,” screamed Jed, giving another driver the finger as more and more cars started beeping back. “I might as well shoot the planet to contribute to the racket!” he spit.

“Control yourself clearly Jed you are not equipped to handle anything in a city compared to where on back dirt roads you are max level,” said Bessie, petting the driver on the shoulders she rubbed to soothe. “Hey pull over to the shoulder there. My bad to bother you, let's listen to talk radio to calm us,” she took over, changing the channel.

Jed stared off into space stuck with a bad mood he could not shake. He had some kind of vague idea, something stunk. The car stopped at a pull off directly next to the highway letting other cars fill in the gridlocked gap.

“Stop!” he screamed, grabbing Bessie, before she could touch the door handle.

She jumped in her seatbelt. “What the farc is up with you man?”

“Look,” he pointed to cars speeding past like a race flag had been waved on the suddenly cleared highway.

“I wasn’t getting out.Woah traffic cleared in an instant like magic,” she said, sliding the passenger seat all the way back and climbing into the rear atop crates of juice.

“Shit we’re a sitting duck on the shoulder and if somebody taps us all the cargo is going to splat with us right before the finish line fuck,” raged Jed.

He was lucky enough to glance in the rearview and spot rapidling incoming danger.

“Hold on to something dear, we gotta go fast.”

“VROOOM!”

He revved it up over a hundred. The vehicle shot forward right before the incoming semi truck could swipe them. The bootleg bottles hidden in the trunk rattled while they sped onto the highway rapidly accelerating. The big block engine roared into overdrive narrowly merging between tight packed zooming traffic.

“Today on relationship central we got many callers talking about their no good cheating partners, but first let’s chat about men controlling women with their rage.” said the single mono speaker in the vehicle.

Bessie got closer and listened with satisfaction while Jed rolled his eyes. The traffic slowly inched into the veins of the city as the AC blasted them with engine breeze.

“Buy, Eat, Repaste green goop with added gruel of dick hardener and a year's supply of fecal stool changers and vitamin d deposits ordered now to fully complete your optimization,” pushed the studio's resident on-call witch doctor.

“Damn can’t wait to optimize myself into a jackass, hey let’s listen to rock n roll Bessie bet you like that same as me,” interrupted Jed.

“Yeah not dad rock,” snorted Bessie.

“My dad didn’t listen to anything and never owned a radio, said it was all noise and I had to sneak records and hide them under the floorboards whenever he was home, but anyway he was right all along if this is the drivel we gotta be stuck listening too,” said Jed.

“Ah ok rock is rebellious to old head you like asylum pop was to us,” replied Bessie.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“What in the farc is that? And I ain’t that old twenty four.”

“Well you act ancient,” she said.

“Whatever and that nuthouse genre is probably a lame gimmick, The traditional genres already cover all the bases,” said Jed.

“Well the asylums became run by the inmates who used scraps to build a hidden recording studio and makeshift instruments then added autotune croons of their painful human conditions they suffered while making new sounds.”

“Wow uh crazy you must have been bored growing up all alone on the farm,” said Jed.

“Yeah well we had a town and small grade school of 50 kids, but no high school for me let alone academy all taught from papa or the library,” boasted Bessie.

“Hey I didn’t graduate high school either, well didn’t really have a choice of being conscripted into the army,” said Jed, shifting into fifth gear.

“Hey I gotta G.E.D. I’ll help you get started.”

The car followed hundreds of others entering the tunnel underneath the city. The light in the cabin darkened and the max blasting cold air shooting from the AC began to sting.

Jed studied the map like his life depended on it in the passenger seat. They had parked outside a hotdog stand. Bessie grabbed a box stacked with steaming grub through the window.

“Fuck man we are so close and just need to find the wedding venue,” groaned Jed.

“We will find it. Here hold these,” Bessie said, dropping the takeout tray containing six loaded chili dogs, curly seasoned fries, fried clams, and onion rings.

Jed’s stomach growled and moaned, feeling the hot plate underneath it. He dipped the first victim into a jumbo sized tub of ketchup and dug in.

They heard the wedding long before they saw it. The streets bounced from the bass of party beats. A massive tent had been pitched in the center of the city under a crane holding a disco ball. There was a sweet smell of barbeque and people were celebrating.

“Let’s get in and out, before they mistake us for an entree,” said Bessie.

Jed nodded his head in agreement. The car drove past Slyman valets handling stuffed luggage staining through. He gulped as they entered the point of no return in a checkpoint. A barrier blocked the front and another had suddenly boxed in the rear. There were no other humans anywhere to be seen.

“Gulp were sitting ducks.”

“No ducks are much safer around here slurp,” drooled the Crazin guard.

“Hello,” bowed Bessie. “We bring wedding refreshments in the back on a special quest granting us immunity from being eaten I hope.”

“OH you guys.. You're very late, but should make it just in time go go go, I'll phone ahead and tell them you're coming to get the cash ready..Park in the loading zone out back,” yelled the guard, lowering the gate from the booth.

Without having to be told twice Jed stepped on the gas and got them out of there. They passed underneath the shadow of a giant clock tower casting its spell over a line waiting outside to enter. A long trickle of Crazins willing entered the intestines of the industrial bowls. The purple glowing windows on the top floor pulsed as previously bleak buildings burst into colorful jellyfish like veins over the entire exterior.

“Huh of all places to have a wedding this is one,” thought Jed aloud.

“Even to us this is pretty exotic architecture, admit it,” said Bessie.

“Sure,” admitted Jed.

They narrowly pinched between two buses and stopped at an intersection.

“Where now?”

“Look down that dark alley it says loading and unloading zone,” said Bessie.

The large unit of a muscle car ground the paint as it passed a dumpster. Above them the big clock hands slowly inched upwards to fall again representing a forever function. The threatening close quarters concealed fears of unknown death as the big hand struck the next hour. Deep within the tower an electronic bell blasted out the marking of the next step towards the grave.

“Gulp,” said Bessie.

Their car headed down a ramp before turning to get in line behind an idling moving truck. A group of workers unloaded the next van after that of cheese wheels. They were done and out of the picture. The moving truck pulled up and the back slid up revealing couches.

“Shoot those are gonna take awhile to unload,” complained Jed.

“Knock,knock, knock!”

Both occupants nearly shit themselves.

“Hey roll down the window,” said a woman dressed in strange clothing.

“Yeah hey look there are other people here without being eaten,” said Bessie, rolling down the window.

“It’s a great honor for me to serve myself as a voluntary tribute, but until then I must serve the juice,” said the human sacrifice.

“Oh the quest cargo is in the trunk,” Bessie blurted.

“And the reward?” asked Jed, tilting his head ready to rumble in case things hit the fan.

“Tap,tap!”

“Right here is the prize for completing the quest well done,” said a man also dressed in the flowery beads of giving up all ego.

A heavy duty locked briefcase was handed through the window and a tiny key thrown in after. Jed scrambled until he could find it. Bessie’s heart beat like crazy as the last creations of her father sat in jars. The unloading process felt like it took an eternity. It was like the big clock sitting above the loading zone was casting a slowing spell. Jed peaked into the briefcase confirming they had been paid what was owed.

“All set,” said the woman outside, giving a thumbs up.

“Wanna stay with us till the end?” asked the sacrificial man.

A Crazin ran into the area to sample a bottle from the many stacked in wooden boxes. He unscrewed the lid and gulped 16oz down the hatch in one go.

“Buurp. Farc me that’s the best jungle juice I ever tasted. Humans are such a good species,” he said, as his tattoos glowed into overdrive activated by the supernatural brew.

“No thanks, we are gonna take the money and run,” said Bessie.

The confetti erupted as the car burned rubber out of the area.

“Now to get some much needed medical care and a fucking vacation,” said Jed.

They struggled navigating the bowls of downtown packed with guests staying for the big event. There was red lights, full crosswalks, and loaded buses. Jed got out and was almost hit asking for directions only to be yelled at. Eventually they paid a small few and entered the parking garage of the hospital. The car locked up, but the big prize carried the prize tied around his wrist. Bessie and Jed entered into the emergency room.