Hitcher

A Story by Abishai100

Narrated experience of a road-hitcher nightmare with an end worthy of 'cinematic' expressions.

A road-trip dark misadventure/account inspired by the themes of the unordinary American film The Hitcher (Rutger Hauer).

DISCLAIMER: This work of movie-adaptation offers no ties with the film-maker/writer(s) and is cast here as personal expression and any intersection with a real-world production/story is simply erasable.

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This is a sad and scary tale of my cross-country road-drive in the United States which involved the foolish and regrettable pick-up of a stranger, a hitchhiker named Amlan Satan who destroyed (at least temporarily!) my senses of complete youthfulness prior to which I'd been an avid-fan and optimist of post-graduate social-media road-trip journalism in the Western world.

I was on a dark-starry stretch-of-road in California when I met this hitcher, a strange eccentric in glasses (Amlan Satan) who kept telling me about his love of horror-comics while I'd been driving him along to his desired destination en-route to my trip to northern California.

Now, I'm telling you I'd never picked up a 'hitcher' before and I saw portraits and movies and heard road-tales of humor or even darkness concerning the risk involved with picking up a 'stranger' dude while driving and perhaps encountering strange dangers or undesirable 'mates' for driving, but I didn't heed that when I simply felt 'dashing' to pick up this guy on the road-side in the American West one 'fine' day.

SATAN (Amlan): You saw me on social-media, you say?
ME: Yeah, I remember your 'face' from like Facebook or Pinterest (somewheres)!

SATAN: Well...that's cool, fellow...given the 'sheer' traffic of folks on the road nowadays (and on the world-net!).

ME: Yeah...I remember your Selfie included some fascination with 'stalemate-chess' or something.

SATAN: Why, that's right; I'd conversed with other 'nerdists' of the angst linked to stalemate-chess online (perfect-draw).

This guy was no cupcake and insisted suddenly that I'd decided in all my youth to pick up a real American psycho and proceeded to explain his love of horror-comics was 'wed' to his psyche-gift of sensing the raw appeal of pure death and bloody murder and claimed he'd already decapitate multiple 'folks' in the American West while expounding his theories on the 'perfection' of stalemate-chess and what it meant for the wandering philosopher...or adversary (whoa).

He pulled out a pistol and shot at this flying cop-copter on the road-side in the morning, and it led to a fiery crash! That's when I undoubtedly understood I'd picked up some kind of 'specter' thinking I was just being dashing and insisted I drop him off somewhere, perhaps by a motel or gas-station so he might reorient his next move in the West. He chuckled at me!

SATAN (Amlan): I'm 'gifting' you my miniature equestrian magnet-chess set, friend, for your companionship, eh?

ME: Why, thanks, buddy...I'll just drop you off by that approaching motel we're coming towards now, alright?

SATAN: Fine.

After I dropped off this guy 'Amlan Satan' I decided to immediately use my handy-dandy cell-phone and thank my Catholic Jesus that I was safe and explained I picked up a 'psycho' who shot down a copter and claimed he'd murdered individuals, and the cops claimed they'd been 'tracking' some mysterious 'ghost-specter' who reportedly told some people he'd threatened that he was some kind of 'chess-playing Martian' here on Earth to deliver messages of 'eschewed' fear (hmm).

I decided to 'dart' to an eating-dive on the road-side and order a juicy burger and forget about this 'psycho' the cops told me was telling folks he was a Martian 'stranger' and simply wanted to forget the entire road ordeal altogether, reorienting my post-grad road-trip to think about my days of reading/learning about psychology theories and what made human life altogether safe/secure/nutritious (ha).

I met a beautiful waitress (Tandy) who told me she'd had aspirations of becoming a "New York model-actress" and showed me some of her demo-position photos for social-media and I offered to take her on a fun joyride the next day, which I did, and I felt we'd fallen in love and wanted to cast her in some 'cool' social-media spread/blog about discovered beauty in a world of confusing evil(s).

TANDY: We've the best apple-pie this side of the Rio-Grande, good dude, and I know you're as interested in it...as me!

ME: That's right, Tandy!

I took her to a motel and we made love and the next morning she was gone, just vanished. I drove down the road and noticed a bloody murder crime scene involving a decapitation of a young woman...it was Tandy! I didn't know what to think and sped away and I came across another car, abandoned, with no one inside, and I then noticed the hitcher, that evil stranger (Amlan Satan) running away from the car and towards the hilly horizon! I knew he killed Tandy then (shoot).

SATAN: You want to give me a 'lift' to a comfy motel suddenly, young man?
ME: Yeah...I mean, maybe we've got something in common (after all), Amlan.

SATAN: Fine!

I got a gun and I used it to kill Amlan Satan in his motel that night, in vengeance for what he did to my darling Tandy, the waitress wannabe-celebrity with starry eyes I met in that road-diner/eatery in the United States. I burned his corpse and scattered his ashes and wrote in a journal, "Sketches of youth-romance exempt one from punishment(s) and draw one towards the 'doodle(s)' of a more Utopian vision, regardless of age/experience(s)!"

I drove home and made myself a 'gourmet' lobster-cheese quiche in honor of the fallen/murdered Tandy, arguably my 'true' love in this otherwise darkened 'hitcher' life of Hell. However, I ate that quiche with a certain youthful zest as I recounted what made my 'misadventure' with a stranger-psycho who apparently loved chess and claimed to others in the United States roadways that he was a 'stranger Martian' in disguise wandering as an 'evil' philosopher in the West. I knew I'd won a unique victory, or at least a quiche-stalemate (wow).