Vodka fuelled post #1

It is a warm summer night, so still that the driest of leaves falls to the ground like a ball of lead. The night is quiet, even the dogs find it tiresome to utter a bark. I step out of the station on to the unlit road, walk those hundred paces to the main road - no light here either.

I wait by the side of the road, maybe for a bus. An hour passes, no sign of anything. The loudest thing I heard was the pop of the marijuana seeds in my 5 rupee joint. They burst with a crackle, millimeters away from my eye. Then, I think a hear a faint whine, it grows louder with each passing second. Sounds like a V8, my brain says. The glow of headlamps climbs the gradient and with a whoosh THE DeLorean stops right in front of me.

"How far to 1985?", Dr. Emmet Brown with his frazzled mane asks loudly? "Not very far", I say. "Just that there ain't enough road down here to take you to 88." He is dejected. "But if you were to drop me along the way to 1996, I can sure find you some."

"Hop on laddie", he beams and we're off.

Guiding him through the narrow alleys of Lonavla, I lead him on to the Expressway. "Now when did you Injuns come up with these?" I just glare at him as the speed clock touches 88. The loudest sound a man can ever hear, the whitest white a man can ever see assault my senses.

I open my stinging eyes, my ringing ears. He opens the door and stares at me dumbly, that's my cue to get off perhaps. I do so, pointing the way to NH-4, "you can hit 88 again doc, provided you steer clear of the Tata 1210s". He nods, the gullwing doors close and he's gone in a flash.

"This doesn't look familar", I say to myself. "Of course, it doesn't you idiot - you were never here then, sorry now.... no I mean then... whatever!"

to be contd....