By Stevil Strange

Snipe made a quick swerve to the left and my head banged against the door of the cab. I sat up because at least that way I would be able to hold on to the O.S. handle above the door.

The traffic on the bridge was very congested and soon the chase had slowed to a crawl.

"Damn it!" Snipe said, " Traffic was never like this in ‘Bullitt’."

"Yeah, but Steve McQueen didn’t drive a mini-truck that was three different colors." I commented.

I have had a few ‘incidents’ in my truck. The cab is silver, the bed is green and the tail gate is brown. It ain’t pretty and it’s 14 years old, but it’s paid for, runs good and gets great gas mileage.

We inched along with the traffic and Snipe finally calmed down a bit.

After a few minutes I spoke. "It’s your own fault you know."

"How’s that?" He asked.

"We didn’t have to come this way. We could have come up 101 and missed this bridge entirely."

"But.."

"But nothing. You know how I feel about bridges and you came this way because you are the ‘Anti-Christ.’"

"I’m driving so I get to pick the route."

"I coulda drove."

"Yeah, right."

"Well I coulda."

"So how did your truck get to be three different colors?"

"That.."

"I rest my case."

"You’re still the Anti-Christ."

I looked at my watch. It was just a little before 9 am. At 10 we were supposed to meet our friend Trey at "Misdirection’s", a magic shop that is just few blocks away from Golden Gate Park.

Trey is a performer at fair also. His moniker is ‘The Professional Showoff’ and although his faire shows consists mostly of stunts, fire and a bit of juggling, he is also a fine magician.

The traffic finally let up and we entered San Francisco. The city by the bay has a lot of hills, and a lot of stop lights on those hills. My truck unfortunately has a standard transmission. Which means it rolls backwards a bit on those up hill stops.

Snipe was beginning to get peeved again because people were getting right on our tail at the lights.

"I wish they wouldn’t do that." Snipe growled.

"So we roll backward and hit em, big whoop. The truck is three different colors. Do you think I give a crap.?" I stated.

After that Snipe just smiled at each stop light, "That’s it. Come a little closer."

Fortunately or unfortunately depending on who you were rooting for, we had no accidents and eventually arrived in the Park area.

The traffic thinned to nearly nothing as we made our way to the Magic shop. Once there we found a parking spot, fed the meter, and walked across the street to ‘Misdirection’s’.

Trey was standing out front. He was wearing black jeans, a white long sleeve shirt and had a whip tied around his waste for a belt.

I already knew the answer but I had to ask anyway, "What’s with the belt?"

Trey just gave a big smile and answered, "Because whips are cool."

We hugged each other in greeting, because that’s what Rennies do, then proceed to enter the shop.

Trey pushed the door but it wouldn’t budge. "Huh, that’s funny. He’s always open on Fridays."

I checked my watch and saw that it was well past 10.

We peered through the windows to see if anyone was inside and it was at this time that we noticed all the garlic.