Car Wreck

I had never been in such a situation; hence I cannot distinguish if this nauseous feeling is a result of stress from the car crash or the smell of Eddie’s burning body in the driver seat. My body wriggled from the wreckage with reasonable difficulty but Eddie was wearing his seatbelt, which kept him trapped in. I wondered if he died quickly or slow and excruciating – with the shock I had gone temporarily deaf and therefore unable to tell if he was screaming for help or not. The dirt was gritty and stuck to the open cuts on my elbows as the upper half of my body tried to save the rest of itself, crawling as fast and as far as currently possible. Is the car going to blow up?

I had never been in such a situation. What happens next? Is Eddie still alive? I turned my head to see but the muscles around my neck constricted and contorted, causing me more pain than I could really deal with right now. Pain. Good. I think that means I am not in shock anymore. Just keep on chugging along with them elbows, there’s bound to be some sort of life form that can extend a helping hand to me within a good crawl’s distance. Or is there?

I had never been in such a situation. The body of my friend was literally barbecuing alongside the road. And what’s become of the other car? Or was there another car? How did we crash? Eddie was driving. He was never really good at it, but he wasn’t so bad as to make me refrain from holding down the shotgun seat of his car. My chest was tired of moving – my whole body vibrated with every deep breath I drew from the atmosphere. The atmosphere of death, burning bodies, and guilt. I knew that I was at fault for the damn crash. If I hadn’t thrown my fair share of eggs at that pickup truck…

I had never been in such a situation and this fact stood out clearly to any of the Gods who happened to be watching this tragedy. If anybody is watching it is the Gods because a human being would feel morally obligated to assisting me as I struggle for my life. Though, in this day and age, I would not anticipate very eager assistance lest I make a fool of myself.

I had never been in such a situation and it is all the fault of that stupid hillbilly. If he hadn’t have had those stupid high beams on, I wouldn’t feel ever so tempted to deliver an omelet to his driver side window – how was I to know he had it rolled down? I remember what happened to Eddie and I now am certain enough of it to point my blaming finger at the Karma Police. I throw eggs in the window of a moving vehicle – a very dangerous act, and I experience a car crash in which another car comes out of nowhere and drives us into a tree – an even more dangerous act. I recall my distaste for irony. Cursed be he whom drives like Stevie freaking Wonder behind Eddie’s car. I hope the driver of this perpetrating vehicle went straight to hell after a long and brutal death. Was Eddie’s death long and brutal? Am I dying? Am I dead?

I had never been in such a situation. My elbows are finally giving out on me and I feel like I’ve crawled around the world in record time. Pause. Reality sets in and I realize that I’ve gotten no more than 15 feet from the crash. Where the hell am I anyway? Cursed be the sun for having a curfew. The moon did its best to provide light for us on Earth but proved inferior to the sun every time. But what’s this? My savior! A figure travels from the street and towards me! This huge figure cast such a silhouette that my eyes might as well be closed.

I had never been in such a situation. I drop my jaw to open the gullet from which I intend to request help. My Jesus got closer to me and I could smell alcohol. Great, a hick. A freaking hillbilly when I need a miracle. My lifelong rage at God is finally justified as I recall my distaste for irony. This humongous hillbilly drew nearer, staggering a bit. He held an axe in his right hand and it dragged along the dirt. Maybe he cut Eddie’s seatbelt loose with that and Eddie was ok. Maybe I’ll be ok. I hope the other car’s driver is the only one who died. But this hick rubbed me wrong. And he looked oh-so-familiar. And he smelled like eggs.

I had never been in such a situation. As the axe went up in the air I realized from where I knew the hillbilly. Cursed be myself. The axe dropped in what appears to me as slow motion and a split second before I felt this last worldly pain I am to feel, I recalled my distaste for irony…and hillbillies.