* * * * *
Cahuenga High School is about a block north of Campo de Cahuenga Historical Park (and the adobe replica of the original El Rancho Cahuenga ranch house, thereof). And, I guess you could say the accident was partly my fault. Because, just as I was entering the main student parking lot of the school, I was distracted by a big sign to my right. A sign which proclaimed:
"Like, Welcome To
CAHUENGA HIGH SCHOOL
(Home of the Condors)"
The thought briefly (if sarcastically) danced through my head that there was something quaintly reassuring about Valley-speak not yet having become a dead language.* And, that's when it happened.
SCREECH!
BANG!
CRUNCH!
The front bumper of the aforementioned Econoliner had introduced itself to the rear bumper of my custom-restored VW Thing. And, the aforementioned majorettes who poured out of the van-like bus were suitably aghast.
"Omigawd! Omigawd! Omigawd!" chanted the raven-haired brunette who appeared to be in charge (white-gloved hands over her mouth): "Like, I am SO, so sorry!"
"Quite, alright, Miss...?" I replied, even as I hit the speed-dial button, on my cellphone, to report the accident to Triple A.
"Alana! Alana Zaccaroni. And, this is my BFF, Emma Geer. Co-captain of the Condorettes."
She pointed to a bespectacled blonde girl standing to her right. The latter shyly waved "hello," and my return wave was equally half-hearted, as I was momentarily distracted by the familiarity of that surname.
"Zaccaroni?! As in...?"
The brunette smiled and nodded.
"The actress, yeah. She's my mom, and this is where she went to high school before the American Bicentennial."
I held up my left index finger, as someone at Triple A had finally picked up their phone. Whereupon, I hurriedly told them the gist of what had happened. And, the service representative assured me a tow truck would be along presently. So, I hung up after replying "thank you." Then, after seeing that the bus driver had called the local police on _his_ cellphone, I turned back to Alana and Emma.
"Were you young ladies coming back from cheering at an away game of some kind?"
I pointed to their uniforms.
"Oh, no!" Alana exclaimed: "Like, the Condorettes are baton twirlers. Not cheerleaders! And, we were just returning from a special guest appearance on the local edition of 'Twirlercise.' "
"Twirlercise?" I echoed.
"Oh, YEAH!!" Emma practically squealed: "Like, it's TOTALLY the best exercise show on national TV, right now. And we were invited by the hostess to demonstrate the routine that won us an invitation to the International Twirl-offs, in Indiana, this coming Memorial Day!"
"That might also be why this accident happened," Alana added (with a blush): "Like, we were still so excited by everything, we were talking at the top of our lungs all the way back here."
"You can say that, again," I lip-read the bus driver mouthing to himself.
It was at this point that three things happened. First, a police car arrived from the North Hollywood branch of the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department. The driver of which took my statement while his partner took that of the Condorettes. Then, the tow truck arrived. Whereupon, the truck driver got out to examine the interlocked bumpers. And, finally, in the midst of all that?
The flying saucer from Casa Esperanza reappeared.
Naturally, the rubber-neckers among the rest of Cahuenga High's student body were the first to notice. Leading to gasps, screams, and the skyward pointing of cellular vidphones faster than you can say "Draw, pilgrim!"
And, it was with the same rapidity that it began firing beams of white light down at the crowd.
The first inanimate object to get hit--and subsequently miniaturize--was the Econoliner. Followed by the police car, the tow truck, and my car, in that order.
"Hey!" I instinctively yelled: "That thing shrank my Thing!"
As if whoever was controlling it had heard me, the flying saucer suddenly began zapping and shrinking people, too! Starting with the bus driver and the tow trucker...and followed by the two deputy sheriffs.
That's when everyone else's collective survival instinct kicked in and we started running for whatever cover was available. Some of them, like the Condorettes, headed down the block towards the park. In my case, I headed for that semi-literate sign. But, the flying saucer zapped and shrank it, just like it had with my car.
So, I started bobbing and weaving between all the other parked cars. Hoping that whatever batteries were powering this overgrown toy would soon lose their charge! Unfortunately, that hope was dashed after I was deprived of half a dozen more hiding places.
It was when it lowered its altitude enough that it hovered directly in my path, between me and a seventh dubious refuge, that the miracle I'd half-seriously begun praying for occurred.
BA-DA-BOOM!
The shockwave, from the fiery explosion that suddenly destroyed the saucer, sent me flying backwards and to the ground. A moment later, someone was rolling me on to my back. Someone who was holding a Blowpipe bazooka over his right shoulder, while simultaneously pointing at a Chevy Silverado pick-up truck with his left thumb.
"Come with us, if you want to live!"
Whereupon, an extra pair of hands lifted me up and half-carried/half-dragged me over to the pickup. Unceremoniously throwing me into its cargo bed before deserting me for the shotgun seat of the truck's cab. Meanwhile, my rescuer jumped into the cargo bed beside me, in order to reload the Blowpipe!
And, all at the same time that the still unseen driver of the Silverado was burning rubber out of there.
tbc
Giantess World
Chapter End Notes:
*Valley-speak: a "slanguage," or counter-cultural dialect, once indigenous to the Caucasian teenagers of the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles. But, briefly (and infamously) popularized across the United States, during the 1980's, as the result of a one-hit wonder record by Moon Unit Zappa. Daughter of 1960's rock star, the late Frank Zappa.