To be honest, my first time at the go kart track, I felt a severe sense of dejection and sadness at points. After the first turn, I ended up perpendicular in the middle of the track, and everyone was deciding that the best course of action would be to hit me so forcefully so that my car would straighten out on the track. Unfortunately, the savagery that actually occurred was much different. I end up a buoy in the mini putt pond, upside down, dripping wet in my smoking hulk of a go kart. I feel like a grilled piece of delicious maize, being pounded by the crash and smoking inside my burning go kart. I hear my mother nagging me to get out of the scorched wreck, but all I want to do is be defiant and sit in the dissemblance. My melting epidermis is beginning to tether to the burning roll cage of the go kart, and my vision flashes back to my nativity. I can see the baby pictures in side my head, my genealogy mapped for generations inside my family home, all those photos flash before my eyes as I sit there inside my blackened and wet tomb. It’s ironic how the dispersion of the water doesn’t allow my wreck’s fire to be put out. So, I just sit here, and wait for the fire department to claim my cold wet body.
Signed,
The go kart guy.
MORBIDLY AWESOME!
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