
The Best of Times Short Story Competition
Autumn 2022 Results
Many writers have shared their thoughts with the public:
Who's The Boss?
Copyright © Joyce Iles 2022I stood by and watched as the tow truck arrived and its driver started the business of hooking up my vehicle ready for the drive to the auto repair shop. I gave him the address and waved him off as he left with my car attached. Basil, as I fondly called my Barina, seemed to give me a begrudging look as the vehicles turned and made their way down the street.
I hoped that the repairs would be carried out quickly, as I was lost without it, not being one who enjoys using public transport. I’d had a minor accident which I didn’t consider my fault, but it resulted in a smashed front right headlight and a few dents that would need straightening out. My insurance policy would cover most of the cost, but the inconvenience was the main problem. I’d have to ask someone to drive me to work until Basil was shipshape again.
Happily, within a few days, I received a call to say that my car was ready to be picked up, so I hired a taxi to take me to the repair shop. How pleased I was when I saw Basil standing out front almost looking like a brand new vehicle. I thanked the mechanics for doing a great job and sat in the driver’s seat.
“Well,” said Basil, “let’s see how long you can keep me in this nice shiny condition, before you manage to run into something else.”
“That’s not fair, you know that incident was not my fault,” I retorted, stung by his criticism.
“You think so? You were too busy looking in the mirror at your make-up to notice the erratic style of the other driver.”
“That’s a lie. I was checking the traffic in the rear vision mirror.”
“Huh. That’s what you wrote in the accident report, but I know differently.”
“How about you just purr along the road and do what you are meant to do. Get me to the places that I want to go. You just be grateful that you have had a new facelift. You look a whole lot better that you did before.”
“Oh sure,” Basil said sarcastically. “If you occasionally took me to the carwash and stopped leaving a load of crap on the back seat that would be an improvement too.”
“Well, there are worse car owners about. At least I don’t crash the gears, or tear around corners wearing out the tyres.”
“No, but you get away like a bat out of hell when the traffic lights are green and when they turn amber you barge through so that you can beat the red light.”
“If you don’t like it there are a lot worse things I can do.”
“What do you mean?” Basil said a little anxiously.
“Well, let me see,” I said savouring the moment. “I have a number of little nieces and nephews I could invite out on a drive with me. They’re quite messy little creatures. Just think what they could do to those nice seat covers, dropping hamburger sauce and dripping ice-cream all over them.”
“Ha! You’d have to clean it up, not me.”
“Perhaps not. I could just leave it until your insides stank and ants and flies were attracted to it.”
“You wouldn’t do that!”
“Just watch me. If you’re going to be nasty to me, YOUR OWNER, then you’d better watch your mouth.”
“Oho. You know what I could do?" smirked Basil.
“What do you think you could do to me,” I challenged.
“Well, I could just refuse to go and then where would you be? Stuck in traffic!”
“Maybe for a time. But once I got over that, what do YOU think might happen?”
“Oh, do tell me,” Basil sneered.
“I could sell you. And not just to some-one who wants to buy a car. I could sell you to a scrap metal or a spare parts dealer. Do you know what they would do? Break you up into parts and sell you piece by piece.”
Basil was silent for a time. “Would you really do that?”
“I might, so how about you take me out now and drive me to see my friend. Let’s just see what a good boy you can be.”
Basil smiled somewhat maliciously and as I put my foot on the accelerator the car took off down the road with a screech of the tyres at break-neck speed. Somehow I had no control over the vehicle as it roared down the street. All I could hear was Basil’s voice shouting out in victory. “Ha! WHO’S THE BOSS NOW?”