A/N: My last few fics have been so serious. I need something light. This was brought on thanks to the best book in the world—The Writer's Block by Jason Rekulak. Mr. Rekulak, I salute you!
Inspiration: "Take the reader behind the wheel with the worst driver you've ever known."—The Writer's Block (Okay! )
Disclaimer: I don't own Code Lyoko. That pleasure belongs to Antefilms.
If we survive this, I'm going to kill Jeremy.
I had no idea that someone who could be so terrified of getting into a scanner could be so fearless behind the wheel of a car. He has no regard for pedestrians or other cars. I don't think some of his maneuvers have obeyed the laws of physics. How the hell did he get his license?!
Oh wait. All of the people here are psychos behind the wheel. They probably give monkeys licenses in this city.
I'm glad that we shut the super computer down for the summer. We did it because Ulrich and I would've been the only ones in range to react if XANA attacked, but now it seems like we're all going to die thanks to Jeremy's driving. At least XANA won't be able to destroy the world.
"Brake! Brakebrakebrakebrakebrake!" Odd screeches from the backseat.
Jeremy hits the brake and barely avoids slamming into the car stopped in front of us. He gives an annoyed glare into the rearview mirror. "Do you mind, Odd? I can't concentrate when you're screaming in my ear."
Perfectly calm. I don't know whether to hit him or kill him right here.
Ulrich, Odd, and I made two mistakes on this little trip to visit Jeremy.
The first was allowing Jeremy to drive us on a tour of his hometown. He'd gotten his license a week before. That should've been a tip-off, right? But this is Jeremy: steady, calm, reliable Jeremy. Who would've thought he'd be a complete psychopath behind the wheel?
The second was actually my mistake alone. I stupidly called shotgun. So now I'll get the joy of seeing what we run into before we hit it.
I glance in the rearview mirror, praying for some sort of reassurance from Ulrich.
He's white as a freshly bleached sheet and clinging to the seat.
Yup. We're definitely going to die.
The CD player's pumping out this German pop group that Odd hooked Jeremy on, making the whole scene seem completely surreal. Jeremy's drumming his fingers on the steering wheel along with the song, waiting for the Chevy in front of us to move.
A minute later, some wild piccolo music flies out of the CD player, and the Chevy finally decides to start driving again. The singer—He sounds like an angry Brit or something—starts singing about the Devil having a dance floor or something. It seems to encourage Jeremy to drive as fast as the traffic flow will allow (which is pretty damn fast at the moment) as he casually chatters on about this place and that one as if it's a casual Sunday drive.
I've pretty much given up on trying to keep up with the tour. I'm too busy watching out for pedestrians and trying not to scream. So far, Jeremy's managed to barely avoid sideswiping three cars and a truck along with narrowly missing smashing into two cars including that Chevy. Plus that one two-wheeled left turn back there had been a real scream. Literally.
At least Jeremy obeys traffic laws to a certain extent. He stops at a red light, and I nearly cry with relief at the fact that he's not going to turn. Sweet relief.
However, somebody turning nearly takes off his driver-side mirror. That's the fifth time today.
"Thanks a lot, you—" And Jeremy proceeds to mutter a string of obscenities which includes some rather creative (and most likely untrue) facts about the driver's ancestors.
Not the first time he's done that today, let me assure you. Still, the first time was a shock. We hadn't known he knew half those words.
The tires squeal as the light turns green. It takes a second for the car to move forward since the tires don't have any traction. I'm just thankful that Jeremy doesn't drive stick. If this is what he does to the tires alone, I shudder to think of what he'd do to the transmission.
Jeremy cuts off a semi, and Odd screams when the horn goes off. Somebody else is screaming along with him.
Oh wait. That's me. No wonder it sounds girly.
And is Ulrich praying in the backseat? I didn't think he was religious…
Where's a cop when you need one? Somebody needs to revoke this boy's license. Now.
At long last, I spot the parking garage where Jeremy and his family normally parks.
Click-clunk. Click-clunk. Click-clunk.
Yes! The turn signal! We're turning into it!
We, predictably, nearly two-wheel the right-hand turn. Jeremy stops and waits to grab the ticket in order to park before pulling in. He's saying something about hoping that we enjoyed the sights.
Yeah. Like we saw anything in our mortal terror.
He pulls into a parking slot, ejects the CD as some techno song with a language I don't identify at the moment comes on, and puts it into a CD case. He gets out of the car calmly, twirling the key with its "So many pedestrians, so little time" keychain (that should've been a big hint to stay out of the car) on his finger, while the rest of us pretty much tumble out of the car. I hear the beep of the alarm turning on and the clunk of the locks.
At the moment, Ulrich, Odd, and I are kissing the cold, hard concrete of the parking garage. I don't even care that I can see a wad of chewed up bubblegum less than a foot away from me.
Jeremy's bewildered voice from above cuts into my joy of being on solid ground: "What?"
 Since Ulrich was close enough to get from his tutoring session (assuming it was at home) to the school quickly during "Holiday in the Fog," and his parents could visit to see his soccer match during the episode where XANA actually gets rid of the gravity in the area, he must live somewhere close by. And with Yumi, well, this should be fairly obvious by now.
 Flogging Molly's "Devil's Dance Floor." Great song to listen to.