Fury: Christine's POV chapter 1

Hello reader. No, do not be shocked by my presence. It may seem jarring to you at first that I am not human… I am a car… I was born rolling down the assembly line in a Car factory in Detroit just as all other cars would. But I gotta tell you, even though I was born like the rest of them, I was not like them at all… I have a conscience, I have emotions. My name is Christine, and I’m a 1958 Plymouth Fury with a stained record; stained by the blood of people. You may have heard of me, you may fear me for what I’ve done. But before you back off, I want you to hear my tale of ups and downs; Of how I was loved, hurt, and the tragic story of the only one who I ever loved….

(September 1957 Detroit, Michigan)

This was where it all started for me. It was late afternoon in a Detroit car factory, and the brand new Plymouth furies were rolling down the assembly line. All of them looked exactly the same, beige coloring with gold stripes down their side; except for one Fury in particular… Me.

For some reason that I cannot remember, I wasn’t born with the same paint job as the other cars. Instead of being beige colored, my body was painted bright red and my roof was painted white. Instead of gold trim, I had silver trim. Even my seats were red. I don’t remember why, I think it was because I might have been a custom order but never mind. That’s not important.

So here I was, being touched all over and inspected by the workmen for any mechanical flaws, tools poked me here and there tightening and securing parts… But I didn’t like the feeling of it. I felt intruded and agitated. The men touching me were sometimes rough and tools were annoying. I was aggravated like hell, but I couldn’t do anything about it at the time.

But then, my chance to finally shoo them off for a little while finally seemed to come when one of them waved his hands for the assembly line to stop. It seemed he wanted to check something on me, and he proceeded to pop my hood, but what he did next really shocked me. He bent down and peeked under my chassis!!

This was when I really lost it. For some reason I always hated it whenever people looked under there, I guess you could say it was the equivalent of a man looking up a woman’s skirt. But it really angered me!!

Oh you are going to get it!!!! I thought angrily, and I slammed my hood down on the unsuspecting man’s fingers!!! Boy, I still remember how he screamed bloody murder! If I could have laughed, I would be rolling around in stitches!

I was still silently enjoying my victory as I watched the worker walk off with a medic, his fingers bandaged. However, I didn’t get to enjoy my victory for long. For right after that, another young chap smoking a cigar went over to me, opened my left door, and proceeded to plop his fat ass right down on my leather seats. With this, my anger began to boil again. What was this man thinking, slacking off when he should be working?

However, the man remained oblivious to my inner rantings, and he turned on my radio; rock and roll music. Despite the displeasure of having another moron bothering me, I actually liked the music. I was just beginning to enjoy himself…. When the man flicked the butt of his cigar onto my seat.

Oh that was it!! I completely lost it there and then! In fact, I was so angry, I can’t even remember what I did after that. But it wasn’t until another worker came along and opened my door only to find that man fall out of my seat and onto the floor, cigar in his mouth and not breathing, when I knew that he was dead!

“Holy Shit!!” The other worker yelled in shock as he began honking my horn to alert the security. But me,  the gratifying sense of victory that I’d had when I’d slammed my hand down on the other man’s hand was coming back. And even better, the lyrics from the song on my radio reflected exactly what I was thinking!

I want you to know just how I feel!