363-word post or “Defensive Driving”

And just like that, the car went into a skid, and Ben Creosote’s world became a slow-motion slideshow.

The bottle-spin trajectory of the Yaris would without a doubt place the middle part of the car underneath the tractor-trailer to his right. Ben had precious few seconds to think.

He heard the blast of the transport truck’s air horn.

“Why was I driving this fast?” was the first thought to cross Ben’s mind. The second was something about having forgotten to pay his last cable bill.

Peripherally, he saw the truck begin to jackknife.

His third thought was a vague memory of a piece of banana bread that he’d eaten in University.  He instinctually oversteered to the left.

His roommate’s mother had made that banana bread, and it had been so ‘satisfying and delicious’ (he noted an unintentional lyrical excerpt from ‘The Candyman’) that it had given him an erection. “Huh…” he thought. “Weird.”

In the backseat/aquarium, the Dolphin was wakening from his deep sleep in and clicking like an insane person. The translator Ben wore around his neck barked out a robotic translation. “What the..? Oh. My. God. We are. Going. To die.”
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Their front bumper bounced off the truck. The rough jostle gave Ben a thought. “No.” said the psychic Dolphin. “Not… the space bees.”

It was their only hope. Ben smashed the “in case of emergency” box and pulled out the small hammer and smashed the jar of space bees in the passenger seat, releasing a thousand freaking out space bees that swarmed the car, expanding with helium as space bees do.

Their car was lifted out of harm’s way, and the 18-wheeler hit a tree and burst into flames. As the space bees burst and died, their car gradually dropped back to earth in the snowy median. “Idiot.” said the Dolphin. “We needed. Those bees. They take. 12 years to breed. Kingpin will kill us.”

Ben knew things were grim, and they had to think this one through.

In the meantime, he had questions. “Dolphin,” he said, several octaves higher than normal thanks to the bee-lium™. “Y’ever get a boner from banana bread?”

“No,” said the Dolphin. “I’m… gluten intolerant.”

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