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WARNING! Grossly coarse language.

PART SIXTY-SEVEN

Caleb switched the van’s headlights on as he turned west on Interlachen. The sun was poised perfectly on the horizon and Caleb envisioned it sizzling as it descended into the Gulf of Mexico. “Pssst,” he said with a giggle. “Pssst,” he said again. “Hot Mama, you and me are gonna do some sizzling tonight, I tell you what.”

The half dozen houses huddled just west of Gunn Highway on Interlachen’s north side were old Florida, as were the couple of businesses to the south. “Bet there ain’t no hymies living in them houses. Or any biscuit lips either, for that matter.” Eyeing a statue of the Virgin Mary that lay just west of Old Gunn Caleb snorted. “Looks like we got some Mexcrement though. Bathtub Mary. Hey-seus fuck me Christ,” he said, leaving Old Gunn Highway in his rearview and following the fresh pavement of Interlachen as it curved to the right.

Caleb blinked in the gathering gloom. Ahead Caleb could just make out two cyclists and he fought the urge to buzz close to them and lay on his horn. As much as he would have liked to scare the little shits he inched closer to the road’s center line as he prepared to go around the riders. As the two bikers reached the bus depot another bike approached from the west. “Jesus,” he said, shaking his head, “what the fuck is this? A bike path?”

Caleb watched as the east bound rider moved from the right side of the road to the left and turned in front of him into the bus depot. It was only his desire to fly under the radar that prevented him from honking angrily and screaming at the wayward rider. Caleb shook his head and continued past the three riders whom he watched in his rearview as he drove by.

“Stupid fucks,” he said under his breath as he moved his eyes form his mirror and back to the road. Continuing forward, he added, “I hope somebody runs you assholes over,” he said, taking one last look in his mirror.

Realization hit him before he’d traveled the length of a football field and it took all of his self-control not to slam on his brakes. “God damn!” he hollered, searching frantically for a place to turn around that wouldn’t put him in eyesight of the riders. “That was Hot Mama who zipped in front of me! Shit fuck! I got you now you little temptation kike.” Rounding the road’s curve to the left Caleb did a hurried turn around in Interlachen Elementary’s eastern most entry, declaring with a maniacal grin, “You are all mine!” as he headed back to the nearby bus depot and his easily accessed prey.