Rosalie stomped off to the nearest car. Which happened to be a silver Mustang. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the lock. She visualized it, just like Neo in "The Matrix". Everything appeared in her mind's eye as pink letters in vertical lines.
She searched...
She wrapped her psychic hand around it and pulled up.
"Ah!" She said with a grin of triumph, "Got it!"
With a small click, the lock popped up and she opened the door. She plopped down and shut the door; locking it.
Now, to get it started...
She closed her eyes again and placed her hands on the steering wheel. Once again, the pink vertical lines of letters appeared in her head. Concentrating on them, she found the ones she was looking for.
Crossing the right wires, the engine roared to life.
"Aw yea!" She said, pressing her foot to the break and putting the car into Drive.
Without another look, she floored the gas and sped out of the parking lot; turning the opposite direction Cassy went, on Jefferson Ave.
She turned on the radio, thankfully a good song was on. She rolled the volume dial and blared "Milkshake" for all to hear as she rolled through the lower east side projects. "Wow..." She mused to herself. "There's a lot of black people here."
Sure enough, there were.
A whole hell of a lot of them.
But she shrugged it off. Turning onto a side street, she figured it best to avoid the expressway. Too many stupid drivers, so little time to run them over.
She turned onto a different street, heading towards Flint. She was tired and she was damn ready to take a nap.
But suddenly, her plans for sleep were diverted, when a tremor from the ground threw her car onto the sidewalk. Without control of the Mustang, she plowed through a newspaper stand; her tires squeeling to a hault right before she hit a lamp post.
"What the hell?!" She yelled, leaping out of the car.
"That looks pretty bad!" Someone yelled.
The hair on Rosa's neck stood up. There was only one person in the entire world who's voice could make her skin crawl like that. Taking a moment to steady herself, she turned to face the person.
"Erin Cummings."
"What?" Erin demanded as her ugly tried to take control of downtown Detroit.
"What the hell do you want?" Rosa asked, trying not to vomit from the sheer ugliness of Erin's face.
"Well, I was looking for Ms. Minor, because I'm a total suck-up and I wanted to give her this skirt." She explained, holding up a neon green, leather mini-skirt.
Rosa had to use her Matrix powers to defend her mind against the visual images that were trying to force their way inside her brain. "Eww! That damn nasty!" She cried, holding her hands in front of her face.
"What? Ms. Minor has gorgeous legs! All of those nasty spider veins and all that paleness! Who wouldn't love that?"
As soon as Rosalie had recovered from puking up everything she had ever eaten in her entire life, she pointed her finger at Erin. "That's it! I can't take your stupidity any more! I'm going to get rid of you once and for all!"
Jumping into the air, and staying there (thanks to her powers) she concentrated hard. All of her hate of Erin Cummings was pooling in her palms.
Gradually, the hate and anger swelled into two glowing, purple fireballs.
With a rather large grin on her face, Rosalie pulled her hands back, "Prepare to die, you ugly stupid bitch!"
And with all the force she could muster, she threw the fireballs right at Erin's afro, setting it ablaze.
She sat on the roof of her car, eating popcorn and enjoying the show as Erin burned to death. It was a combination of Rosa's hate and the terrible concentration of ugly that live on Erin's face that did her in.
And Rosalie could not have been happier.
Re-starting her car, she returned to her mission of getting home. But as she made her way throughout the twisted streets of Detroit, she couldn't help but wish that Nick, Alyssa and Cassy had been there to see her kill Erin.