The Wilson Brothers

As he was walking to his vehicle, Vincent caught sight of yet another attractive lady he would never have the courage to ask on a date.  The girl-to-guy ratio at the University of Georgia was around 60 to 40.  This sounded like heaven when Vincent first heard about it, but he had forgotten that none of them would get to know him if he never spoke up. 

Except for that one random person.  Vincent had bragged about his upcoming eighteenth birthday, and the one girl who found interest was, according to Vincent’s friends, the girl who flirted with guys all the time.

“No kidding?” Vincent had asked.  It wouldn’t be any kind of consolation for not having a girlfriend, but at least he would be meeting people.  Despite his friends’ initial warnings, with their help Vincent had managed to talk to her.  They had stayed up most of the night watching television until they fell asleep.  It was on the following morning that Michael had called.

Instead of flirting more with that girl and enjoying his birthday, Vincent found himself preparing to head home for a funeral.  At eleven in the morning it was already unbearably hot.  Vincent wiped the sweat from his forehead and stepped into his vehicle.  He had originally told Michael that he would meet them at the funeral home, but Vincent had changed his mind and decided to go home to Gainesville.

Breakfast from the award-winning Snelling Dining Hall had suddenly caught up to Vincent.  He stepped back out of his small pickup truck and headed back to his dormitory’s bathroom.  He had no idea that within a few minutes, his day would become a living nightmare.  If he had chosen to go ahead and leave and hold it in, Vincent would have made it home safely. 

After taking care of business, Vincent headed back to his truck.  As he began crossing the street to get to the parking lot, he failed to notice an approaching car out of the corner of his eye.  The honking horn grabbed his attention.  It came from the left.  Vincent stood still, frozen in terror.  The car swerved around him, tires squealing.  Vincent felt the rush of wind from the gray SUV that narrowly missed him.  After it jolted to a stop, the driver and passenger of the SUV frantically climbed out and sprinted toward Vincent.  Scared and confused, Vincent turned and ran for his truck.  He managed to climb in and shut the door just as the man and woman reached him. 

“Wait!  Let us tell you who we are!  We know all about you, Vincent!” the man shouted, beating on the window. 

Vincent couldn’t believe what was happening.  A black man and woman, both wearing a T-shirt and jeans, were pounding on his truck and screaming like maniacs.  The tall, muscular man was bald with a nicely trimmed goatee.  The skinny, short woman had short, curly black hair like Vincent.  

How do they know my name? Vincent wondered.  He shook his head and started the engine.  He didn’t utter a word in response to their wild claims.  They finally gave up and stepped away as Vincent pulled out of the parking lot and drove off.