"Shit!" he yelled, pulling back the bolt and ejecting the empty cartridge. "Four more shots to go."

This time, a little Mercedes sport sedan caught his eye. He tracked it, and as it moved up the highway toward the curve, he pulled the trigger. Missed again.

He knew he could get them when they were in front of him, but that was like shooting at a barn door and was no fun at all.

Dennis had developed this game after he’d bought the rifle at a swap meet. He decided he needed a good reason for the purchase, so he developed rules for a game he called The Turnpike Olympics. Dennis against cars. The rules changed whenever he decided. Since the game was his invention, he figured he owned the rights to play it any way he wanted.

He enjoyed lying in bushes above the highway, tracking vehicles, and trying to take out one of their tires.  After he fired, Dennis got a real charge out of watching the cars careen across the highway when their tires blew. He especially enjoyed watching the drivers trying to recover without smashing into other cars. 

I’m going to be famous, he thought. Twenty-three years old, and I’ll be famous for inventing this new game.

He didn’t consider himself the same as the nuts who shot people for no reason around Maryland.  He figured what he did was harmless fun. Only cars and an occasional l8- wheeler, whose looks he didn’t like, were involved.

Creating a problem with an 18-wheeler was tougher than he’d anticipated. He had to get one of the front tires to ensure the driver lost control. Knocking out back tires didn’t matter much. Rigs that size could run on a flat tire. But, if he shot out one of the front tires, the truck would lurch all over the interstate in highly entertaining ways.

One time, he managed to make a truck jackknife. It held up road traffic for hours.

There was a beauty part, too: truckers didn’t realize their tires were shot out. To them, it looked and felt like a blowout. Dennis’ fun increased whenever he watched them trying to figure out what’d happened.

He’d stopped shooting at minivans, because they were too unstable. He’d gotten one, once, a nice, silver Chrysler van driven by a woman. The van had rolled and burned, which wasn’t supposed to happen. So he put them on his don’t shoot list—unless he was really bored and hadn’t seen any cars that appealed to him for several hours.

This was a tremendous sport. Dennis felt that only a guy with guts could play his game.

Another part of the fun was to watch everything play out. His rule was inflexible too. Using a five shot magazine, he allowed himself only five shots for each try. If he missed all five, he’d stop the game for the day and do something else. He figured that was the way of a true sportsman.

Maybe one day they’ll have an international Turnpike Olympics.  My sport has all the challenges of Olympic games. And players need great skill to play. Come to think of it, maybe I should develop a video game. It’d be terrific. I bet I could make millions.

He was looking for cars to shoot when he saw a State Police cruiser heading down the interstate at a speed well below the limit. 

He sighted and pulled the trigger. His round missed the bubble and pierced the cruiser’s front window, spidering the windshield.

"Oh shit!"  He murmured when he heard the sound of a helicopter. Rolling over, he pointed his rifle at the State Police chopper now hovering over him.

"Put down the gun," a voice yelled over a loud speaker. "Drop the rifle and stay where you are." 

"That’s not in the rules." Dennis shouted. "Get away from here!" He pulled the trigger. A bullet went through the chopper’s cabin. 

The cops responded with rapid fire.  Dennis jerked once. The rifle fell across his chest.

The copilot called in. "We got the sniper. He took a shot at us. We took him out."

Video game arcades would never know what they missed with the passing of the creator and final victim of the Turnpike Olympics.

AUTHOR'S BIO:

Irv Pliskin was an Army Air Force navigator who flew bombing missions over Germany during World War II. His bomber got shot down over Germany in January 1945. Consequently, he was held in Germany as a POW until the war with Germany ended in May 1945. Returning to civilian life, he formed his own advertising agency, New View, which was situated in the New York City metropolitan area. He ran the agency and wrote advertising copy for several decades.

His nonfiction works have appeared in Flooring Magazine, Bulletin of the 8^{th Air Force Historical Society, Mindprints, Agrarian, and Drumhead. His war memoirs have appeared in Long Story Short Magazine, which continues to feature a new installment every month. He also has an ongoing series in Keepitcoming.net. His fiction works have appeared in Long Story Short and numerous other magazines.}

^{For several years, Irv has also been the moderator of Pam Casto’s, Yahoo flash fiction exercise site, FlashXer. He issues flash fiction prompts three times a week, and keeps the site running smoothly.}

Copyright © 2006 by APOLLO'S LYRE. All rights reserved. Copyright to individual articles held by authors.