EvanL
02-24-2004, 11:03 PM
This article is about an incident that happened to me out west when i was working in BC this summer.
The night felt just like any other. The weather was hot but it had a cool breeze to
go along with it, so it was bearable. It was the first time seeing my cousin in three years.
Living half way across the country from my family, it isn’t very often that I get to see
them, but when I do it is always a pleasure. I came out to work in my uncle’s factory for
the summer and would be staying at his house. My uncle is the head foreman at a
Masonite factory out in British Columbia. I had not been able to find a job in the city so I
shipped myself out west for the summer to offer him my services. So for the rest of the
summer I would be doing back-breaking manual labour and learning how to make doors.
We were hanging out at his place for most of the evening but became restless due to the
lack of excitement. We sat around exploring our options of what we could do, but being a
small rural town outside of Vancouver our choices were limited. We finally agreed on
just taking a drive. First we went to 7-11 to grab a drink and a hot dog because we hadn’t
eaten yet that night, then we went to go fill the truck up with gas.
My cousin was eager to show me around town and even more eager to introduce
me to some of his friends who he spotted in the parking lot of one of the local clubs. He
pulled up beside them and rolled his window down and began to introduce them to me.
The conversation went on for about five minutes but was cut short with an explosive
“BANG!” and then a big tremor throughout the truck. I quickly turned around to see a
young, blonde guy, pulling a pick-axe out of the side of the truck, the moonlight
shimmering off of the blade like a full moons reflection on water. My heart skipped a
beat and I turned to my cousin who instinctively tried to speed away. We maneuvered
through the parking lot like two blind mice through a maze, but the guy was still running
behind us. A persistent little bugger this guy was, we would have to move quicker. “****!
****! ****!” we yelled as the guy got closer. Just then we managed to get to the street and
sped away from the scene as the as the assailant got one last swing, this time
missing and falling flat on his ass but still managing to scrape some paint off of the truck.
As we drove off, with sweat dripping down our foreheads, we stared at each other and
both yelled, “What the hell was that!?”
My cousin spent the rest of the night filling out insurance forms over the phone, which
seemed more bothersome to him than the fact that he has a 3 inch hole in the side of his
truck.
The night felt just like any other. The weather was hot but it had a cool breeze to
go along with it, so it was bearable. It was the first time seeing my cousin in three years.
Living half way across the country from my family, it isn’t very often that I get to see
them, but when I do it is always a pleasure. I came out to work in my uncle’s factory for
the summer and would be staying at his house. My uncle is the head foreman at a
Masonite factory out in British Columbia. I had not been able to find a job in the city so I
shipped myself out west for the summer to offer him my services. So for the rest of the
summer I would be doing back-breaking manual labour and learning how to make doors.
We were hanging out at his place for most of the evening but became restless due to the
lack of excitement. We sat around exploring our options of what we could do, but being a
small rural town outside of Vancouver our choices were limited. We finally agreed on
just taking a drive. First we went to 7-11 to grab a drink and a hot dog because we hadn’t
eaten yet that night, then we went to go fill the truck up with gas.
My cousin was eager to show me around town and even more eager to introduce
me to some of his friends who he spotted in the parking lot of one of the local clubs. He
pulled up beside them and rolled his window down and began to introduce them to me.
The conversation went on for about five minutes but was cut short with an explosive
“BANG!” and then a big tremor throughout the truck. I quickly turned around to see a
young, blonde guy, pulling a pick-axe out of the side of the truck, the moonlight
shimmering off of the blade like a full moons reflection on water. My heart skipped a
beat and I turned to my cousin who instinctively tried to speed away. We maneuvered
through the parking lot like two blind mice through a maze, but the guy was still running
behind us. A persistent little bugger this guy was, we would have to move quicker. “****!
****! ****!” we yelled as the guy got closer. Just then we managed to get to the street and
sped away from the scene as the as the assailant got one last swing, this time
missing and falling flat on his ass but still managing to scrape some paint off of the truck.
As we drove off, with sweat dripping down our foreheads, we stared at each other and
both yelled, “What the hell was that!?”
My cousin spent the rest of the night filling out insurance forms over the phone, which
seemed more bothersome to him than the fact that he has a 3 inch hole in the side of his
truck.