Car Ride

   I’m walking down the street.  A black, shiny car pulls up beside me.  Bad sign.  I pull my gun out.  Fire at will.  Bullet proof windows.  Darn.  The door opens.  The interior is ominously dark.  The voice that speaks is ominously deep.
   “I’ll overlook the cost of new windows if you get in here right now.”
   “No,” I answer.
   The front window rolls down.  A long, threatening muzzle protrudes.  I quickly change my mind.  I climb in.  The door shut behind me.  It’s black as pitch.  There’s a flare of light as the man beside me lights a cigar.  Then the match is gone.  The only light comes from the burning ember on the end of the cigar. 
   “What do you want with me?” I ask.
   The ember flares.  The stench of the cigar fills the air.  I’ve smelled worse.  Wait, no I haven’t.
   “I got a job for you,” says the man with the ominously deep voice.
   I stifle a cough. “Send whoever it is a box of those cigars and you won’t need me.”
   The ember flares again. The car fills with more fumes.
   “You’re not in the position to make jokes.”
   This time I do cough. “Keep smoking those things and neither will you.”
   There’s a click.  Cold metal presses against my head.
   “You got a death wish?”
   I grab the gun and pull the trigger.  An empty click.
   “Yeah.”
    The gun is removed from my head.  “You think you’re tough?”
   “Tougher than your cigars.”
   The man growls. “Forget the cigars.”
   “How can I if you keep choking me with the smoke?”
   The ember shoots downward and is ground out.  We are again in pitch blackness.
   “Happy?”
   “Yeah.”
   A match flares.  A few puffs.  The match goes out.  The ember is back.
   “Then let’s get to business.”
   I shoot the ember.
   “Okay.”
   There is a pause.  Then another match, a few more puffs, and the ember is back.  Again.
   I shoot it again.  A futile click.  Empty.  I reload.  I shoot again.  The ember doesn’t move.  I never miss.  I shoot again. The ember remains. 
   The man chuckles. “This one’s bullet proof.”
   “They make them that way?”
   “You order it, they make it.”
   I shrug, pull out my switchblade, and chop the ember off.  It lands on the man’s lap.  Sizzle.  Yelp.  Then it’s gone.  But the cold metal is back to my head.
   “This time it isn’t empty.”
   I bring my blade up till it hits flesh and stop. “Neither is this.”
   There is a pause.  A laugh.  The metal is removed.  I lower my knife.  A flare.  The ember returns.  I slash it.  My knife breaks.
   “Knife proof too?”
   The man chuckles.
   I grab the cigar.  Snuff it out.  Throw it back at him.  Flare.  Ember.  I fire into the darkness below the ember. 
   “Ow.”
   The door opens.  I’m ejected.  Something is thrown after me.  It hits my head.  The door slams.  The car roars away.  I look for what hit me.  It’s a cigar.  It’s lit.  I take a puff.  Choke.  Throw it away.  Continue my walk.