Lamborghinis Tearing Up NYC - Film at Eleven
Out in the middle of traffic, Brenda turned up the volume on the audio system of her shiny red Lamborghini Countach and turned on a side street.
She noticed very light traffic in front of her and pushed the button on the control panel for the rocket booster. The force was so great, she was pushed back into the seat as the car picked up enormous speed and everything became blurred. "Yeeeesss!" she squealed as she saw the spedometer readout stop and start blinking at 300 mph. She saw a blue and white blur that she surmised to be a NYPD cruiser as she whizzed by. She pushed another button for the speakerphone and dialed a number. "It works, Lynda!" she giggled. "The damn thing works."
"Mine's working like a charm, too," Lynda replied back, also using her speakerphone in her black Lamborghini. "And who said it couldn't be done?" she cackled. She looked in her rear-view mirror to see flashing red lights. "Can I call you back?" she asked, taking a sharp left.
The police car came to a crawl as smoke came from underneath the hood. "Damn!" the cop behind the wheel exclaimed, slapping the steering wheel as his partner radioed for help as well as passing on a description of the Lamborghini.
And with that, the chase was on. Six cars came out from all directions and while some tried to chase it down, others were trying to block the car. All efforts were futile, for the car streaked by like a blur. The cops all heard on the radio about another Lamborghini, the description exactly matching Brenda's car.
The situation was chaos (to say the least,) with dozens of police officers sqauwking back and forth as Lynda and Brenda gleefully dodged other vehicles, sent pedestrians running and screaming for cover and in general creating mass confusion.
Both cars met on Fifth Avenue and it turned into a veritable demolition derby, knocking cars parked along the edges up onto the sidewalks.
Then Lynda's car suddenly screeched tires and made an awful racket as the transmission locked up. She fiddled with the gearshift and, as a pack of over one hundred and fifty NYPD cars came toward her, put the car in reverse and sped off while Brenda cut to the right and tried to divert attention.
Lynda turned the car and tried to slow down, but her foot hit the gas instead of the brake and the car went beserk. She closed her eyes tightly and her hands clung to the steering wheel. "Oh Holy shit!" she screamed as she heard and felt the car crashing through a glass window. People were running for their lives and yelling and screeching in terror as the car drove right through the building before coming to a dead stop in the alley out back.
Suddenly, everything was eerily quiet for a second before the sounds of sirens started. Faintly at first, but quickly growing louder. Lynda opened her eyes and just sat there for almost a full minute, her hands grasping the wheel so tightly, they had turned white as ghosts. Even her face was deathly pale. Over the speakerphone, Brenda was calling her, but it took her a couple of seconds to get her voice.
"I'm here," Lynda whispered faintly. "I think."
"What happened?" Brenda asked. "I heard the awfulest shudder."
Lynda looked through the huge hole the car left and saw what used to be a jewelry store. "How would you like a pair of diamond earrings?"
"What?"
"Let's just say not only am I the mother of three, but also of the first drive-thru jewelry store." She saw cops and paramedics, as well as a couple of news reporters adn cameramen. "I guess it'll be film at eleven."
Brenda started to say something, but saw traffic comign in both directions and Central Park straight ahead. She heard alarms going off inside the car and she made the sign of the cross as she hit the brakes, only to discover they weren't working. "Lynda," she croaked, "tell Larry I'm leaving him the Lotus."
"I don't think he'll appreciate it," her twin hollered back. "Besides, you have to ask permission before-" The speakerphone went to static for almost five seconds before it completely died.
The car went airborne, to the shock and horror of lookers-on that had gathered and went flying almost a hundred feet into the air before coming to roost in the top of a giant oak tree in the park.
Brenda slowly opened her eyes and looked around, numb with shock. "Am I dead yet?" she asked aloud. She flung the driver's door open and heard sirens. Looking down, she saw a crowd gathered near the bottom of the tree. As it hit her, she moaned "I did not just land this car in a tree."
Down below, news crews were arriving and fire trucks were speeding up toward the scene. Two NYPD officers rushed over to the bottom of the tree, one hollering up to her "Are you alright, Lady?"
"Never better," she hollered in reply. "Could you send up a bottle of Chardonnay?"
The first one chuckled. "You've got to be kidding me."
The second one asked "Is there anyone we need to call for you?"
Brenda had to ponder that question. Do I really want my husband to know I've stuck this car in a tree in Central Park? She looked down at the officer and replied "Hell, no!" She quickly shut the door and waited inside the car.
Almost twenty minutes later, a rollback truck was waiting nearby and the firetruck had backed up to the tree. The ladder was extended and one of the firemen had climbed up to get to the car. He knocked on the door and the window rolled down. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.
"I think so," Brenda replied, still not quite believing the situation. "All I was doing was testing out the car to make sure it was working properly." She shrugged. "I think I'm gonna need to go back to the drawing board."
"Some test drive," he remarked. "Heard you flew a hundred feet in the air. What are you? Test driver for NASA?"
Brenda laughed. "Nope. I'm in the same line of work as Q from the James Bond movies." She notived his blank look. "You know, the old guy with all the neat gadgets?"
Meanwhile, down below, Illya got out of a dark gree Jaguar XJ-6 and made his way through the giant crowd and flashed his UNCLE ID card at one officer, who let him through the barricade. He quickly approached the fire truck to see the fireman coming down. "Is Brenda okay?" he asked.
The fireman looked at him. "Who?"
"The young lady stuck in the tree," Illya replied, showing him his ID card. "Is she okay?"
"Fine," he answered. "She won't come down, though. She said she wasn't moving until all the news vultures disappeared."
From her perch, Brenda was totally shocked as she saw Illya climbing up the ladder. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean?" he asked. "It's all over the news. Besides, I didn't have anything else to do today."
"Right." She grinned. "You've actually shown up to rescue me, didn't you?"
"Something like that." He noticed the car had landed in the middle of the treetop and wasn't moving around or rocking. "How did you get this car to land so solid?"
"Luck, I guess," she replied. "I guess you're wondering why I'm up here in a tree."
He cracked a smile. "I'll ask later. Why don't we get out of here and go somewhere private?"
Her eyes lit up. "And where are the boys?"
"Dawson's taking them home." He noticed the sun was starting to set. "It's going to get dark soon. Let's get down from here."
Brenda unfastened her seat belt and started to slide out of the car. Illya got close enough and grabbed her waist. "It's okay, Bren," he told her. "I've got you."
She took a deep breath and felt her feet on the ladder. "I think I need to take a break in the Computer Lab for awhile," she commented. "I'm about as good with rocket boosters as Tim "The Toolman" Taylor," she added as they started down.
"I find you better looking than 'The Toolman,'" he responded.
They finally made it down a few minutes later and when Brenda felt her feet on the ground, she was just about to lean down to kiss the grass. The crowd clapped and cheered as a helicopter came over the tree to lower the winch. But neither Brenda or Illya paid attention - they just simply slipped through the crowd and almost ran to the car, followed by a few police officers.
While that was going on, Lynda sat in a crowded cell, waiting for her turn to appear in front of a magistrate. It was stuffy, noisy and she looked and felt totally out of place in her dark blue Liz Claiborne pantsuit and matching mid-heeled pumps. Her long hair was hanging by the ball that had been so heavily sprayed earlier and her glasses were askew on her face. She stayed curled up in a corner, letting the various conversations swirl about and trying very hard to make herself invisible. A couple of fights had broken out and the guards had to come in and take people out, other than that is was rather boring.
It seemed like an eternity in that hellhole. She could've easily asked to see the borough commander, but didn't really feel like throwing her weight around. She'd already embarrassed herself enough for one day and didn't want to attract any more attention. She didn't even know when Napoleon had shown up until he walked into the cell, asking "Are you alright, Josie?"
She looked up. "I can't remember when I've had so much fun," she remarked, immediately noticing the stares of everyone around. "The rocket boosters screwed up all the systems in the car."
"I'm not worried about the car," he whispered. "Let's blow this popstand, shall we?"
"That's the best idea I've heard all day," she smiled, trying to get up. She soon winced. "I think I've broke a pin in my ankle, though."
He quickly helped her up and gave her the cane. She steadied herself with it and asked "Do the kids know where I'm at?"
"No," he shook his head. "I had Dawson take them home. He's also got Nick and Vanya, so I think I'll slip him a little extra on his next check."
"Make it cash so it can't be traced. Otherwise, the auditors will be screaming." She took her burgundy Aigner camera bag purse from him and quickly threw it on her shoulder.
"They'll scream anyway when they find out almost a million dollars went down the tubes today between both cars." He took her arm and helped her out the door. "But don't worry. I'll think of something. But right now, I think we need to have that ankle looked at."
"And after that?" she winked.
"That depends on how you're feeling after we get that ankle situated," he winked in return.
