The Virgin Suicide
They say you’ll never forget your first time. All thanks to auto window tinting in Orange County I won’t forget the first time I drove alone.
Here’s a short account of what we would call The Virgin Suicide.
Exterior – Santa Ana Freeway (I5) – night
Marley, 16, is behind the wheel of his newly detailed Ford Fiesta. Thinking the hand-me-down car was too gay too function, he had it pimped at the local car shop. He now enjoys the view outside through darkly tinted windows, a result of having the best window tinting in OC, CA.
Being a new driver, he finds it a bit challenging to see through the dark car window tinting c/o OC top auto shop – beauty has its price as they say – still he goes on driving at a rather slow speed.
A police car siren breaks the silence of the night. Marley takes a careful glance at the rearview mirror and steps on the gas, all the while thinking of what alibi he can come up with to tell the cops. The police car catches up on him in a matter of seconds and he is complied to take a full stop.
Marley has his eyes on the side mirror the whole time as a police officer comes near. He rolls down his window, ever so carefully so not to damage the new car tinting. Orange County living is far from simple and cheap, apparently.
Officer: License, please.
Marley hands his neatly cased license, careful not to look the officer in the eye. The last thing he wanted was to look suspicious or disrespectful or – whatever.
Officer: Could you roll down your window a bit more? Your auto tinting isn’t Orange County, CA- friendly. Not a fan of the sun, son?
Marley does as told. He doesn’t say a word, though.
The officer takes a long look at Marley’s boyish face and looks at the license on his hand.
Officer: (Snidely) you look mature here, boy. No sign of your boyish features at all. You should have the photo changed.
The pot-bellied officer hands the license back.
Marley: What’s my offense, sir?
The officer looks around before ducking his head into Marley’s fully opened window. Marley jerks his head back, obviously surprised by the uncalled for gesture.
Officer: Not the touchy type, boy?
The officer’s face is a few discernable inches away from Marley’s face.
Officer: We can discuss your offense some place else, yes?
A hairy hand touches Marley’s forearm with such awkward intent.
At that, Marley pushes the window button with the intention of hurting the officer’s fat, hairy arm. The officer yelped as his arm is suddenly wedged between the window and the rusty ledge.
Marley steps on the gas, full force, sending the car to jerk forward. The car increases speed and Marley pushes the window button again to release the officer’s wedged arm.
He drives away into the dark night. He’d rather commit suicide and stay a virgin at that.