Dating a Murphy
“Oh, the pictures in my wallet? Yes, they are a little unusual. I call them my Murphy Stories. This first one… …”
I should have known better. Ever since meeting Tisha, nothing ever went as planned.
But honestly, that was one of the things that made her great. Most of the adventures were enjoyable. And besides, with her last name being Murphy, I joked with her, what else would I expect?
On our first date, I ran out of gas. Yes, I know how cliché that sounds, but it happened.
We had decided to go the National Forest for a hike up to The Knob. The trip there… easy peazy.
The hike. It was awesome. Talking to her was like finding my long-lost best friend.
The views from the overlook. Spectacular!
It drizzled a little on our way back. The rocks in the pathway were getting very slick. Amazingly, we arrived back to the car without one of us falling.
But coming out of the intersection from the overlook parking I had to pass the shuttle bus bringing the last group of sightseers to the top.
As I veered to the left, my Subaru slide off the macadam.
There was a harsh thud. I was sure that I had dislocated the muffler of the car.
Continuing down the road, there was not a huge roar following me, so I figured I had just hit the frame of the car on the corner of the macadam.
Less than an hour later, as the sun was setting on the horizon, so was my car setting by the side of the road. The gas gauge read EMPTY. I had, apparently, knocked a hole in the tank.
We chuckled about the meaning of it all, and awaited AAA to rescue us.
Within thirty minutes, they had towed the car, and us, to the local garage.
We waited at the Exxon/Subway next to the garage for AAA to deliver a replacement car.
Seeking sustenance, we split a cheesesteak and chips. Laughing at the bad luck of the night, I jokingly said,” Well, I think our luck is going to change.”
I slipped out of the bench setting and walked to the counter. “Two JungleCrush tickets, please.”
I handed Trisha one of the tickets as I slide back in the sat.
Quickly scratching the surface, I found mine was a dud.
Trish just sat there.
She was white.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Didn’t the sandwich agree with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I think tonight’s date is on me,” she said.
Handing me her ticket…. She had won $15,000.
“You meant the one with the hot air balloon. That was from the day I asked Trisha to marry me.”
Written for Writer’s Digest Flash Fiction February Challenges: Challenge #9 Today’s prompt is to write about a surprise gone wrong.