Demolished Men

I need some help over here with this big ol’ Chevy, Lew.

I’m on it. Turn hard right, and then brake. Let him tap your right quarter, just a kiss. Right, that’s good. Slow him down… Slow… Ok, now gun it!

Lew, now that there was purty.

Yep, classic T-bone, dancing around with him bought me the time to get up speed. Fish in a barrel, Bobby, like always.

Watch the Ford on your left, Lew. His partner’s on the other side of the arena right now, but he’ll come a’runnin’.

Got him. Taking him into the wall, just keep the vultures off me for a second. Ok, here comes the partner, reverse it. Good. Now brake and I got his ass.


Speaking of “Got His Ass,” you hicks want to surrender quietly.


You knew it would happen someday. When you boys get enthusiastic, an E1 can pick up your thoughts miles away. I’m Special Agent Lewiston, and you’re both under arrest for using esper powers to dominate a mundane sporting event. That’s a class three felony, jailbirds.

This is Agent Harris driving the tow truck. He’s E2, so don’t try. We’re impounding these vehicles. Make that “wrecks.”

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200 words. Inspired by this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt:

And my apologies to the memory of Alfred Bester, author of The Demolished Man, winner of the first Hugo award in 1953.