Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

I’m a maverick. I always have been, and will continue to be. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to be unorthodox, independent-minded.

My mother thought it was a bad thing, until the day she died. She said I was a bad seed, and tried to make me over from the time I was a kid. When I was five years old, I flipped someone the bird and she made me go up to them and apologize. It was a cop, so I guess she had a point.

I got into a lot of trouble as a teenager, but as they say, didn’t we all? They say we’re just learning how to be at that age, finding out who we are. I knew who I was as I was fighting my way out of my mother’s womb, so their theory didn’t apply to me.

Until the day she died, my wife thought being unorthodox was a bad thing. She said I didn’t act like a normal husband. She’d whine at me. “George, why do you…” Fill in the blanks. “Why did you…” Fill in the blanks. And on and on. She knew I was a maverick, a rebel. What did she expect?

So now, as I sit behind the wheel of this stolen Mercedes, I have a decision to make. Do I flip off the cop walking up to the car and tear out of here? Do I shoot him and tear out of here? I’m a darn good shot. Ask my wife. Oh, that’s right, you can’t. Or, do I turn myself in and face the consequences for the many..uh..um… unorthodox things I’ve done?

I open the glove box…