Audrey’s Gum
I suppose when the coroner finds me dead on the floor and he strips my body searching for clues to my death, he will scratch his head when he discovers Audrey’s gum taped to the middle of my chest.
Everything in this story is absolutely true. Except, I’m not dead yet.
Audrey discreetly spit the gum into her right hand and then, even more discreetly, dropped it on the floor of my car as I drove her to a gas station. I couldn’t figure out why she did this until two days later. The gum possesses magical powers which, hopefully, will make the baby’s-fist-sized tumor in the center of my chest disappear.
About that tumor, I quote, “CT scan of the chest with contrast shows an anterior superior mediastinal mass measuring 7.2 x 6.4 x 5.5 cm in transverse, craniocaudal, and AP dimensions respectively. The lesion has thick irregular margins with calcification along the walls. Mild diffuse hazy density is noted. The Hounsfield units suggest possible adipose content. Differential diagnostic considerations would include a mediastinal teratoma.”
Remember the mountain lion with teeth growing out of its neck? The Idaho Department of Fish and Game said one possible reason for the deformity is due to “a rare tumor called a teratoma.”
So, here I am driving Audrey to the gas station because her 2006 BMW was out of gas. She’s got a big gas can, and she’s walking down the road, and I stop and ask if I can drive her to a gas station.
She gets in and says her name is Audrey, and she’s a student at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. Her card was declined at the gas station, so she ran out of gas and she’s broke. So, I say I’ll buy the gas and she can be on her way.
Ten dollars and sixty cents later, she drives off in her car and I drive to PetSmart to pick up Slider from the groomer.
Now I’m driving home, same road, and — wait! Is that Audrey’s car on the side of the road? There’s a man pouring another ten dollars and sixty cents worth of gas into her tank. I pull up behind. I ask what happened. She says the car died and this “kind man” took her to a gas station so she could get more gas.
She starts the car. Sounds okay. She wants to know how to pick up I-25 north to Albuquerque. I tell her to follow me and I’ll lead her to the on-ramp. I keep my eyes on the rearview mirror. I signal a left turn off University Avenue, which leads to the on-ramp of I-25 N. I figure I’ll let her pass me and then I’ll follow her for a couple miles to make sure the car’s alright.
She’s right behind me now, her left turn signal flashing. I turn and accelerate glancing at the rearview. Here she comes. Wait! That’s not a BMW. It’s — fuck, I don’t know what — a Volvo maybe? I pull over on the shoulder and watch the rearview. More cars coming, but not hers.
I yell, “FUCK ME!” I open the windows just enough so that Slider won’t overheat. Then I run up the on-ramp as fast as a 69-year-old man with a tumor the size of a baby’s fist in his chest can run. I figure her car must have died again. Not a sign of her car. I run back to my car and drive to the next exit, turn around, drive back to the University Avenue on-ramp, turn left, and shoot for the adjoining gas station. I’m guessing she knew her car was about to stall, so she swerved out of the on-ramp entrance and just managed to coast into the station parking lot.
Wrong. Not a sign of her.
I’m sweating as I pull into my driveway. I stop the car and that’s when I notice the gum on the passenger side floor. I pick it up. I take it into the kitchen. I place it on a paper towel. It’s a green wad, with some tiny stones on one side where it dropped to the floor. Maybe she stepped on it. I smell it… minty fresh. Quite nice, really. I leave it on the kitchen table.
I turn over the events in my mind. I sleep on it. I wake at 2:30 in the morning with the realization that I’d seen a ghost. Or, maybe a saint. So I Google the name “Audrey” and, whoa now, meet Saint Audrey!
And how did Saint Audrey die?
She eventually died of an enormous and unsightly tumor on her neck, which she gratefully accepted as Divine retribution for all the necklaces she had worn in her early years.
And that’s why I have Audrey’s gum taped to my chest.
Oh a day that was
Ooh that’s the way it goes
There’s a million ways- to get things done
Three’s a million ways- to make things work out.
We have an update to this story.
We have another update to this story.
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