Journal Entry 1
It’s not as cool as it sounds. But yes, my car is one of the Transformers. Who would’ve thought that one of Earth’s mighty robotic protectors would transform into a Honda Civic? His name is Tony, short for Antonio. He identifies as Spanish. I’ve seen him sneaking Duolingo sessions when he thinks I’m not looking. He keeps doing a Mexican accent, I don’t think he knows what Spanish means.
There are cool parts to it I guess; usually, I don’t even have to steer the car, Tony can do it for me. Although, we often disagree on the directions, so I’m always late. Lost my last job because of that, which was unfortunate.
Entry 2
Tony’s from 2008, so Optimus Prime said that he’s going through transformer puberty. I don’t really know what that entails, and truthfully, I don’t really want to. What I do know is that the trunk has started to smell absolutely retched. I asked Tony about this and he said he “didn’t talk to Betas.”
He’s also started to get really into 6ix9ine, which is about 8 years too late but that hasn’t stopped Tony. No matter how many times I beg him, Tony is blasting “Gummo” on max volume. He keeps saying that he was born in the wrong generation and that everybody now is a bunch of phonies. I told him that 6ix9ine was popular in THIS generation. He said I sounded like a phony.
The other day Tony said he made friends, but he wouldn’t tell me anything about them. I’m pretty sure it’s these two Mustangs and a Prius that I’ve seen hanging around my parking lot. They are not Transformers.
Entry 3
He’s going through more and more changes now, it’s not just the smell anymore.
I got inside one day and the gear shift had changed from the stock Honda (which I had grown rather attached to I will admit) to a plastic skull that could also be used as a cigarette ashtray. I don’t smoke.
Another time I came in and the seat coverings were suddenly leather. Then another week went by and they were fur, Tony finally settled for a Mexican-Hawaiian floral fusion. Tony never talked about his changes, and I’ve done my best to take them in stride, but to be completely honest it is sometimes a lot to handle.
For instance, one time I caught him huffing a can of NOS. He told me it was antifreeze. I told him I could read the bottle. He seemed surprised.
He even made me install sound proof doors and walls to the garage. At this point, I don’t want to know why. At least I get to watch my Grey’s Anatomy in peace now.
Entry 4
Great news, I have gotten a girlfriend, Sally, and she is the love of my life! Tony really likes her too; He’s always so excited to see her, he’s such a supportive car. Whenever we’re driving around on a date, he is always so good about directions, and he’ll even play actual music. He even dropped the Spanish act. Couldn’t ask for a better wingman. Or car.
Life truly could not be better.
Entry 5
Got in my first fight with Sally today. It was a doozy. Sometimes I really cannot make heads or tails of that woman. But I love her, so what can you do?
Tony said he’d take her for a ride and let her cool off. He said he’d talk to her for me. He really is a great friend.
Entry 6
I think something may be wrong… I cannot put my finger on it, but I’ve noticed that Sally’s been distant lately. I ask her what’s bothering her, but she just waves it off. Hell, the only time she acts normal is when we go for drives nowadays.
To be completely honest that’s pretty much all we do now. Thank God for Tony.
Whatever… Sally’s just in a funk or something, I’m sure she’ll get over it given enough time, it’s just too bad she’s only willing to come around when Tony’s available. Usually that’d be fine but recently Tony has been going on a bunch more missions to save the world. Something about international terrorism or something.
Hopefully Tony comes back soon, I miss Sally. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.
Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I’ve hung out with Sally… and Tony always seems to be going on missions when Sally can’t go out…
Entry 7
I can’t sleep.
Sally is lying in the bed next to me —a rare occurrence these days— and I can’t close my fucking eyes; I can’t stop thinking.
She couldn’t do that to me. The love of my life… and my car.
Tony, how could he—
No.
Tony would never.
I bought him from that shitty used Honda dealership. Gave him everything he has in this life. But most of all, he is my friend. I feel awful even thinking about these things. Hell, Tony’s been out saving the world, and I think of him like this!
I lean over to kiss Sally’s hair. Guilt over my paranoia washing over me in waves. How could I think she was cheating just because she’s been a bit cold recently. My nose brushes her hair, I breathe in reflexively, accidentally, nasally.
I smell oil. Car oil.
Entry 8
Tears roll down my face as I write my goodbye letter to Sally. It is not well written, mostly just an insane scrawl showcasing my bereavement. But can you blame me? Of all betrayals in the world, this cuts deepest. I throw the note on the table and walk past the door to the garage.
I try not to look at it. To keep walking. But almost subconsciously my hand moves, gripping the handle, twisting it, and I’m walking inside. I’m creeping towards his sleeping form. It’s completely dark but I can see perfectly, him there and me here, standing before him.
I have no idea what I’m doing; I look down at my hands, there’s a length of hose tube coiled within them, how’d that get there?
I know what I must do.
I unscrew the gas tank, and he gives a little shudder but then settles back down, he doesn’t even start as I slide the tube in. He was always such a heavy sleeper. I suck on the tube, and then that evil, dark liquid shoots out, splattering me: seeping all over the concrete.
He doesn’t even notice. Not at first, but then the honking starts: panicked. Loud. Late. I close the door behind me. I knew those soundproof doors were stupid.
I pack a bag and head out the front door. I think about getting a taxi but decide against it.
I think I’ll stick to walking for a while.
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