The Devil Drives a '66 (And Other Stories)

<p>That's when I really noticed it the fact that the landscape immediately around the car had changed; that it had—reverted somehow. I can only describe what I saw which was that none of the vehicles at the light could have been newer than a '66 and that the light itself looked decidedly retro decidedly quaint at least compared to the one only a block away. More the storefronts alongside had changed so that a Kinney Shoe Store now stood where a Taco Bell had just been and a Woolworth had replaced an Indy Food Mart. Likewise the pedestrians had changed—yoga pants giving way to miniskirts athletic shoes giving way to go-go boots and winklepickers short hair giving way to long. And it was as I observed these things that I noticed something else—the Stingray's reflection in the Woolworth's front windows or rather the reflection of something which was not the Stingray but which stood—hovered—in its place: a long translucent green-black thing like an enormous wine decanter only laid on its side which glowed slightly from within its bulbous body and seemed to warp the very air around it to bend it to curl it like burnt paper.</p>