Crash

Earlier tonight, as I was sitting in the car, I started coming up with a very short story in my head, and I kept kind of repeating it so I wouldn't lose it. I think I did lose a bit, but here's what I managed to come up with. It's very short, very fictitious, and probably very unfinished. I apologize, Ralph, for using your name, but hey, when I think of texting at the wheel, I think of you.


Crash

So, that was how I died, speeding down the 145 in the Range Rover, blasting The Gaslight Anthem, my new phone clutched in my hand as I waited for an instant message. It’s sad to think that had Ralph not gotten that text, or if he’d gotten it about five seconds later, we’d have been alive. If his boyfriend could’ve held off just five more seconds, if he hadn’t felt that breaking up at that exact moment was absolutely urgent, Ralph would’ve seen the car coming at us, stopped or pulled over, and then we could’ve continued on our way once it had passed us or rammed into someone else. Of course, he shouldn’t have been texting at the wheel, but it was 2009; who didn’t? I guess that’s life, though; your friend’s boyfriend decides to send a text at the most inconvenient time, your friend decides to open it at an even more convenient time, and the next thing you know, you’re crushed between the dashboard and the passenger side door, reduced to nothing but a bloody corpse. As if that wasn’t enough, my new phone had flown through the windshield and into the road, where car after car proceeded to drive over it, immediately ruining the touch screen. I suppose it was a good thing I was already dead; my dad would have killed me.


Questions, comments, concerns?

SXR