Normally folding chairs were reserved for camping trips, roasting squishy marshmallows over a toasty fire. Yet she sat in the middle of Old Fate on that smoky thing. Perched above, Shaliver "supervised" the situation with anticipated amusement. As for why she chose here she said something about, "returning to their place of death." Something she found common with ghosts. Either way, he was just as hoping as Birch for this mysterious car to show up.

And appear it did.

White eyes now a sickly pink, smelling of cooked flesh and gasoline. Even standing up she could feel herself being looked down upon. Childish giggles freeze the air as the backs of its wheel spin into action. Throwing her childhood camping chair at it she dives around the street corner. Drifting around the corner, time was too short for it to notice the oil just out of view. Colliding with the broken-down pop shoppe at high speed. Before the rubble clears she tosses the ladder balls at its tires, locking them in place. They don't call me the Ladder Ball Queen for nothing.

As she charges in, she pulls out the axe from her backpack. Jumping into the air she brings it down mercilessly on the plastic punk. It can't chase me if it's chopped into little pieces.

Shaliver clapped his little paws, enjoying the Birch's spectacle. Not so hard now was it?

She would have been cursing his words if she had heard them. Because as she continued to hack and hack the pieces weren't splitting off. Instead, the holes closed in front of her very eyes. It was starting to recover faster than she could hit. The ropes snapped.

Her elbows scraped the pavement, being flung across the street. Staring into their painted eyes a chill ran up her spine.

Shaliver could see her scramble to her feet right before the car charged at her. As the two speeded off down the dishevelled street he rose to his paws. Doing some stretches he would join in the chase eagerly. Catching up he can already tell that Birch is panicking. She narrowly dodges the engineless vehicle, whose only sounds were reminiscent of annoying giggling. Using the light poles as means to keep distance and making sharp turns won't work forever. After a few funny minutes of watching her struggle, he decides to end it before it gets too serious.

Leaping high into the air he lands between her and the terrorizing tyke. He smirks, "Seeing as you're in desperate need of my assistance I'll step in. Let me show you how it's done. I can end this with just this tail." Putting it in front of him the car is swiftly stopped in its tracks. He does it.

For five seconds.

How ironic, the one who ate roadkill now is roadkill. He twitched "...Sha-" he gets driven over again. And again. His body was looking like he was crushed during rush hour on a Saturday. The last one flung him into the air, Birch being able to safely catch him. Going down another alley she begins the chase again. After some tumbles and manoeuvres, the two were able to find a safe spot inside the dumpster. Inside the metal walls from the edge of her hearing the squeaky plastic tires getting close.

The pink glow from his horns made it easy for her to see the fluttering of Shaliver's awakening eyelids. She knew this situation was of the most delicateness so she needed to be extra nice.

"At least you only look like roadkill."

He huffed and turned away from her. Now it's the second time this week he was hit while he was down. Excluding all those tire marks that covered his dark furry body.

"Before we go any further is there something you have to say," she leaned over to the defeated creature. However the longer the silence went on she leaned ever closer till she was face to face with him.

"You were right."

"Say that a bit louder for the people in the back-"

"You were right." The last part comes out as a growl. She smugly chuckled in his face as his ears tipped back. Sitting back up, and away from the horrible-smelling trash, she lays up against the walls of the dumpster.

"About what?" She watched him squirm in place.

"About how dangerous the car was..." Satisfied, she scooped him off the dirty dumpster floor and brought him onto her lap.

"Will you not tell anyone about this? Ever?"

"On one condition," she pulled his face towards hers, "that's if you help me stop this deranged toy."

Shaliver's swagger returned to him. With one razor-toothed grin, he agreed happily. There was still the issue of how they would do it, and what they would need to do it. Checking her backpack she still had some oil left, but the only set of wall balls she had are likely broken now. Not to mention the axe being left all the way back where they started. And they couldn't scout elsewhere with that thing closing in.

Lifting the roof of the dumpster she spied around for some hopefuls. A few tipped bins, some loose newspaper, broken glass, and an absent tricycle that appeared to be rideable.

Lightbulb!

So fun! So fun! How they run and hide, so fun! As quiet as it was they knew they couldn't run. They giggled at the thought of their scared faces. And the satisfaction of painting the street in their blood. Ting! An alley with a few tossed-over trash cans, and an opened dumpster. Slowly rolling in, nothing could be heard fumbling inside, there was some garbage littered near one side. Ting! Not here! Reversing out the alley out of the corner of their chipping eye they could see.

Shaliver stuck his creepy tongue out as Birch obnoxiously rang the little bell.

He'd never think he could be impressed with someone's ability to drive a tricycle. Somehow keeping a fair distance between themselves and the tyke car. Her legs blurred as they raced down the empty streets. Even taking the corners with the skill of her Father's beloved dragsters. That didn't stop the car from catching up to them. When the next big corner came, Shaliver reached into Birch's backpack. And with the same anglerfish smile, he slips the oil slick onto the ground. At full speed, the little car crashes head-first into one of the foreclosed shops.

While they made a bigger distance gap a question came to mind, "Where the hell are we going?"

"Thought you would know where a place like this was. Considering your penchant for previously eating trash." The dots connected instantly, however that didn't fully explain why they were headed there.

Just as they used the last of their oil it appeared in the distance, Fatemore Dump. And it was just a straight shot. Tyke car closing in, Birch forced her legs into overdrive, speeding with all her might. Shaliver could see one major problem, the sureness of them crashing into the wall. Whipping his head he quickly grabs some unattended planks and fixes a ramp with them. His tail is able to hold it in place long enough to fling the two into the air.

Over the fence, they luckily land on an uncomfortably wet mattress. The mattress slides down the pile of garbage to the safety of the ground. Just a few feet near where they sat the tricycle falls apart during the landing. A wheel rolls over to them, resting at their feet. Birch gets up and starts scanning around for what Shaliver wasn't sure.

Beep! Beep!

It was far, but not too far. Whatever it was was clearly not in sight, she had a grim look. "Shaliver, you are going to hate what I'm about to ask."

Oh God no.

"Could you keep it distracted while I get things set?"

His ears pick out its squeaking wheels coming in closer. Could he even trust this plan, after the last two failed? But considering his lack of ideas he nodded his head and walked away. Birch's feet pattered away till it was an echo. All he needed to do was keep it occupied till she was ready, no need to go crazy. His tail didn't seem strong enough, so what could he do to keep it busy long enough. Glancing over to the tower piles of unwanted trash an idea sparked to mind.

Rolling down the semi-clear path, the tyke car playfully beeped. That was interrupted when a pile of garbage washed over them. A malicious cackling was above them. Sitting, silhouetted by the Strawberry Moon, was the Dinner Plate Eyed Shaliver.

"Want to know my favourite form of speech?" The little car began driving up the hill, "TRASH TALK!" His tail quivered, as the ground slid away. Flipped onto its back the trash buried it once more to the sound of Shaliver's cackles. Prancing from one pile to the next, Shaliver had his tail pulling pieces of them away. Resulting in what avalanched the increasingly angered car.

Shaliver landed on solid ground as the car was buried again, he readied another jump. Bursting from the pile it slams into him, sending him through one of the many mountains. Slimy pizza slid down his face, he crossly nibbled it into his mouth. Clawing his way out he dodges another intense blow, the trash landing on it.

What the hell's taking you! They destroyed many piles as they went down the trash-lined path. With the garbage levelling out behind them he was forced to move back further to avoid its plastic wrath. Throwing more trash was becoming ineffective, it just kept smashing into him regardless. He was starting to get flung into piles, his aching body too tired to resist.

Shaliver half-consciously watched as the little car was revving up its back wheels. Clouds of smoke rose up while the dirt beneath blasted behind. Beeping victoriously it stares into it with its dulling eyes.

VRRRRRRRRRRRR!~

It wasn't too far off from them. The car went to investigate, but not before running the faux-cat over again. Skirting to the location it came to an immediate stop. Three times large with gnashing teeth, rusted around the wheels, and backlights shining directly at it. Shaliver approaches from behind, finally realizing the full extent of her plan. Jumping out from the driver's side, Birch belts at the top of her lungs.

"GARBAGE DAY!"

Before the car understands Shaliver's tail wraps around them with an unyielding grip. They're thrown right into the jaws of the machine. Birch quickly jumps back in, mashing her thumb on the crush button. Metal jaws came down on the plastic with slow yet merciless pressure. She joined Shaliver outside to watch its final moment, exorcism sticker armed. Over the howling of the looming machine, the two could hear something harmonizing with it. Crying. Wailing. Something about it tugged at her heartstrings. And when they came to a sudden stop; it disturbed her.

Turning off the truck she could not hear them anymore. No laughter, no tears, just quiet. Glancing at Shalilver he didn't appear to care, but he was still readily stanced in front of their crushed remains. Peeling away the laminate side of the sticker she placed it on the remains and recanted the sacred words. For a moment the symbol glowed; before dimming back to normal.

Rest in Peace Leslie.

"Who the FUCK was that!?"

Both jump in surprise at the rough voice nestled behind hills of rotting garbage. Birch cradles Shaliver under her arm as she dashes to an exit. Reaching the exterior wall she puts down Shaliver as she searched for a place to climb; only till being carried through the air by Shaliver's tail. Once outside she can feel him lifting himself up, using her weight as an anchor. They both made it out; dashing away before the old man could catch sight of them.

Both stinky, yet alive.

Shaliver hissed as he was scrubbed down head to paw in cat shampoo. Birch, who had already bathed, took great pleasure in washing the increasingly displeased faux cat. Despite that he did not try to claw or bite her in retaliation; instead choosing to get it over with. In her skull-decorated shorts, she made sure none of the previous night's smell would fester in his fur. This also made the burns on her knees visible, which he would stare at between the rinsing of soap. Once free of the stinky aroma she got out the blow dryer with a devilish grin.

She was smiling while both drying and combing his fur. He would lean into the comb; that if not for the blowdry he could be heard purring. Once clean, dry and looking more groomed she went into the bathroom to wash her hands.

Shaliver leaped up to the bed where he would take his regular post at the end. When Birch returned his eyes focused again on the burns on her knees, even as she joined him.

"Guess we could call this a successful expedition," she elbowed the faux-cat. He didn't comment but did his version of a grin, even with his strange jaw. "For the first time ever I've successfully exorcized a ghost!"

"Good for you."

"Oh," she turns to him, "It wasn't just me who did that."

Birch petted him tenderly, "You really helped me out back there. Thank you."

Birch's freckled face glowed. Shaliver had to admire one thing about her, she always bounces back. When times aren't great she was always the one to keep herself in high spirits. Heh. And after tough times she would always find a way to smile again. It was looking at her knees one more time that tore it.

"Well if I was there then maybe I could've done a bit more." Birch gave him a questioning look but didn't interrupt.

"How about the next time this happens I tag along, for moral support." She was shocked, stopping her petting immediately.

"You would come with me?"

"Why not, if I have all day to wander then why not wander with my favorite roommate." Birch could feel her heart swell when a sudden thought came to mind.

"So you want to be a team? Like The Teenage Mystery Team Solvers and their talking rat!" She was vibrating in excitement.

"Why not."

She cradled him into a hug, squealing as she twirled around the room. However, the song and dance was interrupted when something rolled into the room. A little over an inch, hot pink, and a new car smell.

It was a Little Wheels.

Beep! Beep!