This writing is based off of the prompt "Why is Ian struggling to steer his car?"
I-55, he needs the turnoff for the I-55. It's fucking freezing out, and he's driving with the top down, in his underwear. He's flying on five bottles of South African red wine, feeling steamy, but his fingers are numb.
"Take me hooooooome! Country rooooads...."
Ian is a bit of an idiot. I knew him from Kansas City and his parents may well have been siblings for all I know, cause he damn sure acted like it sometimes. Anyways, he's driving, right, looking for the I-55 when I shit you not - and this is where it really gets crazy - a fucking spider monkey jumps on his naked ass from a tree that juts out from the bolder right around Turlington.
Ian loses his shit and is swarming all over the damn road. He goes flying over the median and is barreling head on into a semi switching lanes, layin' on his fucking horn. Meanwhile, the goddamn monkey is screaming like a bat outta hell and gouging Ian's left eyeball nearly out of his fucking head.
By the grace of Jesus, Ian misses the truck and crashes dead on into a light post on the other side of Hillside, the lane heading east. Shit. Fucking shit, I say. Crazy.
Now Ian's alright. He had enough liquor in him that he probably thought he crashed his spaceship in a fucking martian jungle. But his car ... eesh. Let's just hope the fucker's got a good insurance guy. No idea what happened to that monkey bastard though.
Chicago-born citizen of the globe, rich in the things that really matter. Let's get weird.