The Car with Three Wheels

Stanley leaned to the right, trying his best not to let go of a fart.

He looked at his wife. Melissa had her arms crossed, her body in the perfect, upright position.

“Lean to the right, honey.”

“No. I won’t do it. I won’t. Total nonsense.”


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“Then we won’t be going anywhere,” he said.

“Oh, what are you talking about? I weigh 150 pounds less than you. If your leaning doesn’t balance this contraption, what is another 120 pounds.”

Stanley raised his eyebrow at her. She scowled back so he resisted the temptation to contradict her mathematics.

“Just go back in and buy the fourth tire,” she said.

“No. It wasn’t good enough.”

“Well, I think the man at the desk was being sarcastic.”

“No, I googled it. With enough weight, the car will balance itself.”

“Then I should drive. The problem is on your side so we need more weight on the passenger side.”

Stanley went to object, but her rationale was solid. He got out of the car and switched seats with her.

The car continued to lean.

“Nothing happened,” Melissa said. “Other than the car rocking, nothing happened.”

“Maybe we need to give it a go first, dear. Things don’t just magically happen.”

“You could have fooled me,” Melissa mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, ” she said, putting the car in drive.

They made it about ten feet on the rim until sparks were flying and the smell of burning metal filled the car.

Melissa began to laugh hysterically, placing her forehead on the horn, the loud blare of it calling attention to them.

A man began pounding on the back of the car.

“Hey, you moron, I was kidding!”

Melissa leaned back in the chair, her laughter now becoming a cackle.

Stanley frowned and opened the window, sitting upright himself.

“But the site I googled says…”

“Sir, have you ever googled your ailments?”

“Yes, of course. Unreliable. I’m either pregnant or dying from cancer. It requires a lot of research and validation. I’m better off talking to my doctor. You know what I mean?”

The man and Melissa stared long and hard at him.

Stanley’s face turned the color of a stop sign. “I see your point.”

Two minutes later, he was buying the fourth tire, which had just the slightest discoloration on a small patch of rubber.

But don’t you know, that’s where his eyes remained, fixated on small matters.


About Kristina England

Kristina England resides in Worcester, Massachusetts. Her writing is published or forthcoming at Crack the Spine, Extract(s), Gargoyle, The Hessler Street Fair Anthology, The Quotable, Yellow Mama, and other magazines. Find her on her blog.

>> Kristina England's author page

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