Move Out Of My Way

So about a week ago while I was in the car with my dad(my dad was driving. I'm not allowed to drive because some people think that I would be a hazard to the other people on the road. Why would they think that?) these really slow people were walking across the street. Now when I say slow I mean really slow. I could have gotten out of the car, walk to an airport, buy a ticket and then while on the plane yell "BOMB!", been arrested, sent to jail, go to my hearing and be admitted to a mental institute, get out when I'm no longer considered a threat to myself or others, walk back to the car and they still would only be half way across the street. It was kinda funny though cause while  they were walking across the street they looked at us like "What the fuck do you want. We will walk across this street as slow as we want to." . Now, if I had been driving , you know what I would have done. That's right. I would have just run over their ass. Wouldn't we all love to do that. Maybe this is why I'm not allowed to drive. I'm not old enough to drive yet but now I think I know why I'm not allowed to drive. I can imagine it now.

Warning: Not for people who can't stand reading about blood and shit like that. You've been warned.

Are you sure you want to read it.

Are you absolutely sure you want to.

Well if your so sure how come your reading this little line instead of skipping this crap and heading straight for the story.

There's no turning back now


The wind blows through you've hair as you look at all the destruction on the ground. Trash cans litter the street with garbage. Street lamps have fallen and blocking off parts of the road. Cars are all around. Most with many dents in them and have been pushed to the side of the road. Bloodied bodies in some of the cars as well as on the road and side walk. It looks as if this once peaceful place had been hit by a tornado. You walk down the street, the smell of blood and smoke in the air. You reach an intersection with three possible ways you could go. You look straight ahead only to find that the street is deserted. Turning right you look down the street. It's also been deserted. You look to you're left when you see a huge chunk missing out of a building. You run over to it to find on the inside of the building a lot of bricks. It didn't look as if whatever hit the building went all the way through. Just hit it and probably backed up and resumed the massacre. You walk down the street. It looks exactly like the other street. You see a car that looks familiar. You run over and look in the window, well what used to have a window in it. Much to you horror, you see the body of your close friend. His body is bent forward into the steering wheel. You open the car door and try to push him back up against the seat. Once he stops slumping forward you look at him. His eyes are closed almost as if he was sleeping. There's blood all over his head and his once brown hair is now soaked with blood. Tears start forming in your eyes at the sight of your friend. You put your hand over his bloody chest. You don't feel his chest going up and down like it should when he's breathing. Tears start rolling down your cheeks. You feel his hand. It's cold. Now you start sobbing. You know he's dead. You know you can't do anything to help, you can't help him or anyone else. You feel helpless and stumble backwards in a state of shock. You feel a bit of survivor guilt. "Why must his life be taken. Why not mine." you whisper to yourself. The only thing you can think of doing is finding whatever caused this whole mess. You run down street after street looking for the culprit. Each street with the same carnage when suddenly, at the end of the road you see a car still running. The back tires hovering above the ground. A street light is under the car and against a building preventing it from moving. How the car got the street light under it will forever be a mystery. You cautiously walk over to the drivers side of the car. Looking into the window that's when you see the culprit.....me, the terror of the street.


Yeah, I know. Not that funny. It's more of a sad story. I didn't know I was capable of writing a sad story. Ok ok you're not happy with the sad story. I know you expected a funny story not a sad story. You're probably crying right now while you're reading this. Fine next time I promise I'll tell you a funny story. Now stop you're crying (I'm such a caring person aren't I).

Question Of The Day:

Did you like my story? Be honest. (If you say yes I won't come to your town when I get my license.)