Free Swarm (Dead Ends) by G.D. Lang

was too much for me to handle.
    “What?”
    “I grew up in Sea-Tac” I responded, blankly staring off into the distance.
    “Oh, you mean like the airport?”
    “Sort of. More like the crappy city that surrounds the airport and acts as a receptacle for jet fuel and a sounding chamber for the massive 747’s that seem to take off every 30 seconds.”
    “Wow. Sounds luxurious”
    “Yeah, it is. If your idea of luxurious involves constantly rattling windows, out-of-towners asking for directions on a daily basis, and an increased risk of every kind of cancer and human ailment known to man. On the plus side, the schools were horrible so I didn’t really have to try that hard.”
    “Sounds amazing. You probably had a lot more to do though compared to where I grew up.”
    “Oh yeah? So you grew up in the Yukon Territory then?” I smiled.
    “I wish. No I grew up in a town called Vader. No Joke. The only reason it even exists is because it was a stop for the Northern Pacific Railway back in the early 1900’s.”
    “Yeah, I see the sign for that on I-5 every time I drive to Portland. I always wanted to live there just for the geek cred.”
    “Yeah, there was always a tiny little news story about us every time a new Star Wars movie came out as if the people in Vader somehow had a direct link to George Lucas and we could provide some insight into his methods. It gets old quick.”
    “So can I blame you for the whole Jar Jar Binks anomaly?”
    “Hey! I like Jar Jar!” She playfully punched me on the shoulder with a little more force than I was expecting. I tried not to wince.
    “Of course you do. You’re a girl.” I rolled my eyes.
    “I even have a stuffed Jar Jar that I slept with for years. Even practiced kissing on him.” She smiled at me, looking for a reaction.
    “Suddenly I’m a little jealous of Jar Jar.”
    We had reached the car, the crescendo of our flirtation now dissipating as I reached for my keys, struggling to find the right words to continue whatever this little courtship was. Instead, silence. Momentum shifted, the moment lost.
    I simply smiled at her as I opened the trunk. “Here goes nothing.” The sound of creaking metal slowly receded as it opened fully to reveal the remnants of a night I would probably never fully remember. “Try not to judge me too much based on whatever you see in here.”
    “Oh, I’m gonna judge the crap out of you. That’s what people do isn’t it? At least I’m being honest about it.”
    “You know, sometimes honesty isn’t always the best policy” I joked.
    With the contents now seeing the light of day, it was hard to determine what to focus on first. The checklist of contents was both shocking and somewhat impressive:
A case of small-engine motor oil, which unless there was a lawnmower stuffed in the back somewhere, was completely useless
A pogo stick missing one of its foot holds
A pair of cast iron weights that looked like small bowling balls with handles attached to them
A 2-gallon gas can that judging by the smell and array of empty fast food drink cups, was filled with an embarrassing amount of orange soda
All the makings of a proper fiesta: A half-full bottle of what looked like really expensive tequila, a small squirt gun filled with lime juice, a mostly empty salt shaker that looked like it came from a diner, and a quesadilla machine inside of a taped up box that told anyone with half a brain that it had been returned and there would inevitably be pieces missing
A camelback backpack with the bladder removed and replaced with a bunch of long gas station style pepperoni sticks
An automatic paper towel dispenser that had clearly been ripped from the walls of a public restroom – I had always wanted one of those
At least a dozen packages of water balloons that were meant to look like grenades when filled
Costco-sized packs of Snickers and Milky Way Midnight bars and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos that had been opened and dumped all over, seemingly without a