This Is So Fun I Am A Little Thankful For Thad - Blog Posts

To say Cole was having a really fucking bad day was the understatement of the century. He’d started his morning being yelled at by a woman at work who was positively incensed that The Music Center of Hawkins, Indiana didn’t carry some brand new Yamaha keyboard. As if Hawkins was the epicenter for all trends and expensive brands? Then, he’d taken his mom’s car to the shop to assess the damage, and those crooks were claiming he’d have to pay $3,000. Who in Hawkins had that kind of cash laying around and what the hell did they need it for? So, yeah, he’d left the shop in a bit of a flurry and maybe wasn’t paying the best attention to his surroundings-- but it was not his fault that his car slid into the one in front of him. He’d slammed on the brakes, but the damn thing reacted so slowly. Could you damage your brakes in a crash?

Cole groaned when the prick got out of the car. This was going to be fun. The guy started yelling and, truthfully, Cole was barely listening. He was distracted by the guy’s antics... and maybe a little by his face. Cole unclicked his seatbelt and slid out of the car, wishing he had a cigarette right now. He had barely even hit the car, it wasn’t even dented-- something that could easily buff out, which Cole knew because he’d buffed out plenty of scratches on his mom’s old station wagon before. “Calm the fuck down, guy,” Cole said, rolling his eyes. “I happen to like driving my car around like this, unsure if the brakes will give out or if it’ll all just go up in flames at any minute. Keeps me awake,” he articulated every syllable, leaning into the guy’s personal space. Then, because he couldn’t help it: “If you wanted my number, you could’ve just asked without all the fuss.” He paused and, when the guy prompted him again, Cole threw his hands out in a shrugging motion. “The fuck do you want me to write my information on? Your car?” he dangled his keys in front of the guy, as if he would key his home address into the bumper. 

WHO: thad bradshaw and @colemontgomeryx​ WHERE: the streets of hawkins 

thad could read a map, he really could! he’d even taken cartography lessons growing up, but nothing, nothing, could have prepared him for how to navigate hawkins. the roadways made no sense, the city planning was incomprehensible, and he was thoroughly irritated. as his road rage was about to peak, everything halted when some piece of shit came barreling into the back of his car. his baby. he had a lot of outlandish things in life, but none quite as important as his car. money was no object, and neither was the labor, thad would drop both gladly, but it was the principle. nice things, like his car, should be kept nice. and ugly things, like the clunker that hit him, should be driven off a bridge. 

stepping out of his car huffing and puffing, thad slammed the door closed, “hey, man.” he said, jaw clenched. “i don’t know if your brains are scrambled or you think driving that thing is street legal, but you just ruined my car!” it was a dramatization, really. he hadn’t even looked at his bumper, but right now it was more important that thad get the point across that he was upset. “it’s an engine combustion waiting to happen,” he placed his hands on his hips, “not only are you stupid, but you’re lazy. that would take me maybe…two…three afternoons worth of work.” he boasted, simultaneously insulting the other, “and god knows, there’s nothing to do around here, so maybe you should get your priorities in check, pal.” now that he had sufficiently ranted, thad thought clearly to demand, “give me your information, so i can contact you with a bill after i fix my car.” he looked back at his baby, all dented and scratched in the back. thad’s lip could’ve quivered. he turned back to the monster who did this, and more forcefully prompted, “well don’t just stand there, now.”