Why I don’t go to the DMV anymore…
I used to love cars, as a child I would plaster my walls in promotional posters for the latest Fiat models. My father used to run a Fiat dealership, every Sunday after Mormon church I would go there and sit in the cars and pretend to be a grown man driving a car (of course I was only a child). Back in those innocent days of youth I did not know what frightening things you have to go to actually drive a car as a grown man.
It was only a few months ago when I was driving the latest fiat 500 down the highway, it gets excellent mileage for a car its size and driving it in loops around the interstate always proves to be the highlight of my week. My Sunday drives had become a staple in the neighbourhood and I would often wave to the colourful locals that lounged around the streets of town. My relaxing ride was going swimmingly as usual, with the exception of one pesky dog that had to be dealt with, until I was brazenly pulled over by one of those new fangled “urban cops”. This rat of a man asked me to roll down my windows. I did so.
“Excuse me sir” He asked in a voice that reeked of condescension.
“Yes…” I answered meekly. ”What is it?”
“Do you know that one of your taillights is broken?” asked the human swine.
“No” I replied secretly knowing it was yes.
I had obliterated my tail light dealing with a bothersome dog some weeks ago and had skilfully disguised the damage by taping a flashlight to the end of my car. Only someone intimately knowledgeable with my car would have noticed this miniscule detail. The colorful locals had betrayed me!
The cop started leafing through his pathetic little ticket book, it had several stains on it of varying colors and textures. Once he had found a sufficiently clean piece of paper, he started writing down my specifics in what I can only assume was chicken scratching writing.
“Sir, do you have your driver’s’ license on you, show it to me, NOW!” yelled the brute.
I froze with shock, but then started moving again and started frantically sorting through my glove box in search for my driver’s license.
“Please sir, I almost have it!“ I declared humbly.
The cop was about to loudly yell at me when I found my driver’s licence and presented it with a smug smile. The police officer inspected it and then said something that might made my smile fade into oblivion.
“Sir, this license is expired” said the cop without a sliver of humanity
I was shocked, no license means no car. No car means no Sunday drive!
“Sir please get out of the car.” he said again. “You’re going to have to go to the DMV”
I pleaded with him and presented my arguments logically “But how will I go to the DMV, if I can’t drive my car?”
“That’s for you to figure out sir, goodbye!” said the cop as he mounted his fruity little cop bicycle which he pulled me over in. He had not a single shred of human decency about him.
Did I mention he rode a bike? He did. I fucking hate cyclists, they are always blocking the roads and idiots. This guy was as you can see no exception.
Getting to the DMV was a horror story on its own. As you well know the DMV isn’t open on weekends or during any hour when a normal people is available on the weekdays. I had to take a sick day from my job at the grocery store souring my already poor relation with my boss Ricardo. To makes matters worse I didn’t have a car and cycling was obviously out of the question. I could have walked but I genuinely despise having to walk in public, especially in the urban hood. I was forced to call my out of work cousin Dillian to catch a ride. I don’t like dealing with Dillian since he’s really into airsoft and I think that’s really lame and disrespects real guns. It was oh five hundred hours on a Monday when Dillian pulled up onto my curve with his Lexus IS. I can not stand this car, and him driving it is an insult to our father (the car dealer from the beginning.) Furthermore, I always thought sports cars were really lame, what sport are they for, water polo, madden football, I don’t think so.
I stepped into Dillians car which as always smelled of that fake new car smell spray that smells nothing like a real new car and just makes me sick. The drive was terrible Dillian kept talking about airsoft and that really started to piss me off, when we finally reached the DMV I was shaking with rage and told Dillian to “fuck off”, He did so.
The building itself had a dangerous aura around it, it was laid out in a quarter swastika shape which I only thought was fitting. The walls where a frightening bone beige and gave the building the look of a giant decaying carcass, if you used your imagination. Several shady figures where lounging around the entrance. As I approached the entrance, they started to talk to me. I looked at the ground and tried to avoid them. They started yelling at me, I mumbled something non-committal and rushed to the door, my heart racing. I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled the door open and stepped into the musky air of the DMVs main cavernous hall. But no breath could prepare me for what awaited me within.
The first sight that accosted my eyes was a truly saddening one, there were about a million doors each with confusing labels that made no sense. In the middle of the hall there was a woman sitting behind a desk, she was listlessly toying with a small pen like a rat would play with cheese. The desk was cluttered and to my recollection had at least 1 coffee cup on it as well as a pile of paperwork. The desk had a small sign on it that said reception. I approached her with a heavy heart and addressed her head on.
“Excuse me miss I need to get my licence fixed.” I said politely.
Not even looking up from he stupid pen she gestured to a bench on which several ghoulish figures were seated, the bench was dirty, way dirtier than any bench I had seen before in my life.
“Ma’am” I said “I need my license fixed ma’am.”
She just gestured demonically again. Something was clearly wrong here, something I couldn’t put my finger on. I slumped over to the grimy bench and tried to find a clean place to sit, useless. I settled for a nice corner piece next to what I thought was a man at the time and waited.
Time fled past me like usain bolt running on one of those flat escalators in airports. I don’t approve of wasting time and after mere minutes of waiting i still had not been guided to the place where my licence would be repaired. I stood up and stormed to the woman.
“LISTEN HERE” I boomed “Take me to have my license repaired or I will destroy you!” I said.
The woman gestured to the bench again. I was boiling with rage and gave a devastating kick to the reception desk. The desk was far stronger than any desk I had kicked before and instead of crumbling like they all normally do it instead severely injured my toe.
“God dannitt” I screamed, this finally got the witches attention as if the mention of god was the only thing able to rouse her deep slumber.
“Sir please go to the door to your left.” she said and threw out another one of her little “gesture”. I walked to the direction she pointed at only to be met with 3 doors. How did I know which one to take, how could I possibly know. I tried to look back at the woman but she had already gone back to playing with her pen. I was left totally stranded, alone.
Out of pure desperation i opened the first door i saw. I took firm hold of the door knob and tried to pull it open but it resisted. I tried to push it but it still resisted. “Did that bitch lie to me…?” i thought in my head. I started rattling and shaking the door as the world around me disappeared in a cloud of pure focus on getting this door open. Sweat dripped of my furrowed brow with every push and pull. My large hands cramped and spasmed, the uncomfortable shape of the handle making painful indents in my moisturised skin. I kept pulling until I was totally exhausted and weakened. With nothing left for it I tried the other door. I’m having trouble describing what I saw in the room that the door guarded. What I saw was a shape which I could almost describe as human. No, not human, more like a gargoyle. It had beady black eyes and a small disturbing smile that cut his face in half. It’s skin, if you could even call it that, had the texture of an old baseball type ball mitt catchers glove. It was doing some action I could not make out as I was still blinded and dazed by the shock of the sight. Clearly, I was never meant to see that room.
I slammed the door shut and tried to run outside. But I quickly found out that i was trapped in the labyrinthine maze structure of the DMV.
I started pacing around still dazzled by the sight of the creature, this caused me to trip and hit my head on a potted plant. The devastating impact of the blow sent those little brown balls they put in plant pots scattering across the floor and made a big loud noise to boot.
I was just getting my bearings and standing up when in the corner of my eye I saw the creature emerge from the door I thought I had sealed shut. It was smart too! It walked with an unnatural limp and leaned on what I can only describe as a wooden club.
“Do you need help?” it said in the creepiest voice I had ever heard, a cross between a child and the stuttering engine of a rightfully defective lexus. I’ll never forget those words.
“Do you need help?”
I did need help, to escape this hellish place!
I stood up as fast as the human body would allow and bolted for the nearest door I could see. The door offered little resistance as I smashed it open with my mighty frame. I wasn’t in the clear yet, more doors! I smash through each one and lost sight of the beast. Finally I come to what I believed to be an exit. I don’t hesitate to cross the boundary that separates this hell from earth, but then a thought: my license, I have no car. “A man without is car is like a feet without its toes” my father used to say that and i believed every word. But now I wasn’t so sure, if this is what it takes. Does every man have to face this. I stood idle, every second another meter the beast could come closer. I tethered over a dangerous cliff, one side having the eternal nightmare of not having a car, the other the DMV. I made up my mind defiantly and stepped through the exit door. For the first time in my life I suffered the humiliation of walking home, rather that then that disturbing smile.
To this day I have not driven a car/entered the DMV. sometimes on tv I will see a comedian making fun of the DMV for being slow and I turn the tv off and yell at it. How could they! Some things should not be laughed at. I am still scared by those events and have since moved to another town, I do not want to see that building again. My cousin Dillian told me that if I had an airsoft gun I could have killed the monster but he’s talking shit, you would have needed a real 50 cal hand cannon to blow a terror like that away, not some toy. Dillian said airsoft wasn’t a toy and then shot me with an airsoft bullet which did not hurt me in any way. As revenge I smashed his taillights in, lets see how dillian likes the DMv ;).