THE ROCKABILLY KITTENS (#fridayflash)

Press play for some mood music

I don't know if I was hallucinating from the Nevada heat or if it was just the cheap gin I was sipping from my hipflask. Whatever the case, something was certainly odd about that afternoon. So much so, at one point I might've even heard Rod Serling's voice in my head.

"Consider if you will a hitchhiker. A man content to be a loner, trekking his way across our great nation. He's a creative sort with an overactive imagination and no one to share it with. A man who hasn't seen a car in three hours and is all too willing to hop in that back seat of one that approached. This is the story of happenstance on a lonely, deserted road in 'The Twilight Zone.'

I was getting a bit too close to the desert and just when I was about to turn back and head for town and the nearest flophouse, I saw them -- these three rockabilly kittens -- driving towards me. I stuck out my thumb and as they passed, the driver screeched some rubber.

As I hopped in, I was amazed to see three of the coolest looking rockabilly chicks I've ever seen. Their car was a Nash and I figured they could've been to Las Vegas for a variety of reasons - car show, rockabilly convention, tattoo expo. I looked at their arms and they weren't tatted up. In fact, they didn't look like they've been around the block all that much. Something was starting to feel strange.

Kitten Number Two shared the back seat with me and asked what was in my ears. I shot her a confused look and showed her my iPod.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It's for music..." I answered, positive she was just fucking with me.

She lit up. "Fun! Can I listen?" I carefully placed the earbuds in her ear and pressed play.

When she shrieked, I turned the player off. The Kittens up front snapped around to see what was wrong.

"That's horrid! What's that noise?"

"Um ... The Chemical Brothers," I told her. "Don't like it?"

"It sounds like outer space music for the depraved," she said leaning forward to the front seat and flipping on the radio. She started bopping her head. "Carl Perkins... He's where it's at..."

Kitten Number Two noticed my flask and asked for a shot. "It's gin," I told her, handing it over.

"All the better..." Kitten Number One, the driver, uttered.

# # #

When I woke up, I was laying on the side of the road right where the Kittens picked me up, flask empty by my side. It was windy and almost dark. The desert was no place to be at night so I started hoofing it to a greasy spoon a few miles back.

It was getting cold and as I stuck my hands in the pocket of my denim jacket, I noticed my iPod was gone. "You gotta be fucking kidding me --" was my only thought from the side of that shitty highway to the Formica counter.

When I plopped on the diner stool, I noticed the place was empty. By rights it should be. At 3 a.m., diners are way stations for the drunk, lonely or stupid. Guess which one I was.

I went to light a cigarette. For the record, those were gone as well.

"Great..."

The waitress, who oddly looked like an out-of-place fembot, slid me some coffee. "'S'matter darlin?"

""Ah, nothing... I lost my iPod up the road."

She tilted her ear like a confused pup. "You mean earPod..."

Now I was confused. She pointed to her head and pulled out what looked like a hearing aid battery from her ear. "Holds 75,000 albums... Plays holograms in 3D... What's an iPod?"

I shook my head and laughed. Sipping my coffee, I should've known better than to sip gin in the Nevada sun.

Music: Carl Perkins, 'Gone Gone Gone. It can downloaded HERE.

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