AcmeShorts

Bentley rested his hand on the hood of the Mercedes Benz C-class. It was still warm, like a catcher's mitt. Had he driven it here? He couldn’t remember. What’s more, he wasn't really sure where here was.
"Hello?" He called. "Anybody here?"
No response.
“Hellooooo?” Bentley felt jack-asinine, just standing there like that, yelling.
Maybe the owner had gone off hunting. Maybe he had gone croc' hunting. Bentley took in the items around him: a tool-bench, some old bikes, a couple of old windows. It looked like a large tool shed of some sort with a Mercedes somehow stuck inside it. How did it get in here? It was expensive looking. It must belong to someone. This place must belong to someone. And by the looks of it, that someone wasn’t too long gone. He listened. He thought he heard footsteps.
"Hello?", he said desperately, but somehow with courage. Suddenly, a large door behind him slid up on noisy rollers. Bentley swung around, ready for anything. But lo! The figure before him was none other than his mom, the driveway stretching out behind her.
"What the hell are you doing?” Bentley’s Mom asked, stepping in, accidentally spilling his bong water all over the garage floor.