This is Sallee, the witch who’s been living in the backseat of my car for the last few years.
I’ve been meaning to share this story for a long time. Here’s the anecdote I’d written that put a little more boom in my 2014 Independence Day: While walking passed my car one morning, a rightfully concerned pedestrian saw Sallee in the backseat, not moving, for two days in the scorching heat. On the third day, the pedestrian called 911. . .
I remember hearing a crescendo of sirens from cop cars and ambulances as they rushed in. It was obnoxious and I was trying to sleep. Unknowing or caring what what the fuss was about, I fell back into a much needed slumber. Hey, when a soul needs rest it could care less if the bed was on fire. I later found out the police and ambulance team told the pedestrian it was just a mannequin. Bet they were all relieved.
Now I’ve heard an ample amount of screaming from teenage girls as they caught sight of Sallee. But never, or so I thought, after getting a closer look, had one continued to think she was still alive. [UPDATE] Since writing the preceding anecdote, a new coworker of mine had also wondered why a “beautiful girl” sat for hours waiting in the backseat of my car each day while I worked. Unbeknownst to me, this went on for a while. The other coworkers knew Sallee by now, but decided to play a prank on the newby by pretending to be oblivious. A few weeks later, the coworker mustered up enough courage to ask me about my “friend” in the backseat. She was relieved. I never asked, but always wondered what she was more concerned about, that the “beautiful” joyriding girl joined me to work every day, or that the girl was dressed in the same Halloween witch getup. Either way, I bet I’d left her with many more questions than I had for her.
Now, if you happen upon a stiff in the backseat of a car, take a closer look. It may just be a defunct mannequin named Sallee.