Tires Episode 1 Quotes

One day I was watching the cartoon She-Ra, and the episode that was on was called ‘She-Ra and the Mighty Rebellions.’ At that time, the gang was already formed and was on the move. We were already getting involved in territory fights. This was when the Syndicates was out [the Syndicates was the first street gang ever to be established in The Bahamas; however, they were put out of business by the Rebellions]. One day we were on the wall, and guys were throwing out different names. I told them that the best name for this gang would be the Rebellions. To this day, I’m sorry I ever came up with that name, because I’m getting tired of seeing that name on the walls throughout Nassau. Anthony ‘Ada’ Allen, one of the former leaders and founders of the Rebellion Raiders street gang.

I told you we should have put her in the second-class carriage with Sutton,” he said to Kathleen. In the week since the episode in the morning room, they had both taken care to avoid each other as much as possible. When they were together, as now, they retreated into mutual and scrupulous politeness. “I thought she would feel safer with us,” Kathleen replied. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Clara was sleeping with her head tilted back and her mouth half open. “She seems to be faring better after a nip of brandy.” “Nip?” He gave her a dark glance. “She’s had at least a half pint by now. Pandora’s been dosing her with it for the past half hour.” “What? Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because it kept her quiet.” Kathleen jumped up and hurried to retrieve the decanter from Pandora. “Darling, what are you doing with this?” The girl stared at her owlishly. “I’ve been helping Clara.” “That was very kind, but she’s had enough. Don’t give her any more.” “I don’t know why it’s made her so sleepy. I’ve had almost as much medicine as she’s had, and I’m not a bit tired.” “You drank some of the brandy?” West had asked from the other side of the railway carriage, his brows lifting. Pandora stood and made her way to the opposite window to view a Celtic hill fort and a meadow with grazing cattle. “Yes, when we were crossing the bridge over the water, I felt a bit nervous. But then I dosed myself, and it was quite relaxing.” “Indeed,” West said, glancing at the half-empty bottle in Kathleen’s hand before returning his gaze to Pandora. “Come sit with me, darling. You’ll be as stewed as Clara by the time we reach London.” “Don’t be silly.” Dropping into the empty seat next to him, Pandora argued and giggled profusely, until she dropped her head to his shoulder and began to snore.

Partially because right at this moment, in this brief instant in the infinitely long time span of the universe, I didn’t feel scared, but angry. Which in turn scared me even more since I remembered the end of Star Wars Episode VI and knew that anger is a step toward the dark side, which made me even angrier. Because I was also tired of movies scaring me. Tired of worrying that someday I would wake up in a Matrix pod. Tired of remaining vigilant, on the lookout for men who might be walking around wanting to make a woman suit out of my skin. Tired of being afraid of suddenly realizing that for years I’d been repressing the murder of my family. Tired

The Night Vale Green Market Co-Op announced today that, after fifteen years, they will begin selling fruits and vegetables. Green Market Board President Tristan Cortez said that recent customer surveys indicated that shoppers have grown tired of empty pickup trucks and vacant tents lining the City Hall parking lot every Sunday morning in the summer and fall. Cortez said that research indicates that consumers are more likely to buy products if they are available and for sale, and that Green Market and Grocery shoppers tend to purchase food items.

I’m sweaty. I’m tired. And I stink in places I really shouldn’t be stinking.” I whine and shoot a glare to Dean, who’s sitting in the passenger seat looking sheepish. “What?” he exclaims with his hands raised. “I didn’t know we’d have fucking car trouble. Your car isn’t even a year old.” “I know!” I snap, hitting my hand on the wheel and growling in frustration. “Stupid old lady car!” I exclaim and push my head closer to the window for a breeze. “The frickin’ air conditioning isn’t even working anymore. Me and this car are officially in a fight.” “I think we all just need to remain calm,” Lynsey chirps from the back seat, leaning forward so her head comes between Dean’s and mine. “Because, as horrible as this trip was, after everything that’s happened between the three of us the past couple of years, I think this was really healing.” I close my eyes and shake my head, ruing the moment I agreed that a road trip to the Rocky Mountains to pick up this four-thousand-dollar carburetor from some hick who apparently didn’t know how to ‘mail things so they don’t get lost.’” Honestly! How are people who don’t use the mail a thing? Though, admittedly, when we got to the man’s mountain home, I realized that he was probably more familiar with the Pony Express. And I couldn’t be sure his wife wasn’t his cousin. But that’s me being judgmental. Still, though, it’s no wonder he wouldn’t let me PayPal him the money. I had to get an actual cashier’s check from a real bank. Then on our way back down the mountain, I got a flat tire. Dean, Lynsey, and I set about changing it together, thinking three heads could figure out how to put a spare tire on better than one. One minute, I’m snapping at Dean to hand me the tire iron, and the next minute, he’s asking me if I’m being a bitch because he told me he had feelings for me. Then Lynsey chimes in, hurt and dismayed that neither of us told her about our conversation at the bakery, and it was a mess. On top of all of that, my car wouldn’t start back up! It was a disaster. The three of us fighting with each other on the side of the road looked like a bad episode of Sister Wives: Colorado Edition. I should probably make more friends. “God, I hope this thing is legit,” Dean states, turning the carburetor over in his hands. “Put it down. You’re making me nervous,” I snap, eyeing him cautiously. We’re only five miles from Tire Depot, and they close in ten, so my nerves are freaking fried. “I just want to drop this thing off and forget this whole trip ever happened.” “No!” Lynsey exclaims. “Stick to the plan. This is your grand gesture! Your get out of jail free card.” “I don’t want a get out of jail free card,” I cry back. “The longer we spent on that hot highway trying to figure out what was wrong with my car, the more ridiculous this plan became in my head. I don’t want to buy Miles’s affection back. I want him to want me for me. Flaws and all.” “So what are you going to do?” Dean asks, and I feel his concerned eyes on mine. “I’m going to drop this expensive hunk of metal at the counter and leave. I’m not giving it to him naked or holding the thing above my head like John Cusack in Say Anything. I’ll drop it off at the front counter, and then we’ll go. End of story.” Lynsey’s voice pipes up from behind. “That sounds like the worst ending to a book I’ve ever heard.” “This isn’t a book!” I shriek. “This is my life, and it’s no wonder this plan has turned into such a mess. It has desperation stamped all over it. I just want to go home, eat some pizza, and cry a little, okay?” The car is dead silent as we enter Boulder until Dean’s voice pipes up. “Hey Kate, I know you’re a little emongry right now, but I really don’t think you should drive on this spare tire anymore. They’re only manufactured to drive for so many miles, you know.” I turn and glower over at him. He shrinks down into his seat a little bit.