Adventuring through the windshield
2005-03-25 - 2:20 p.m.

When the logs first made contact with the windshields, we were strangely unbothered. When it was our own bodies flying through them in a painful act of shattering glass and broken bones, we were slightly more perturbed. I went sailing through the air, and expected to land hard on the concrete and have my blood smeared artfully all around. Instead, I continued to fly. I soared over the city and over the mountains. I flew over the Pacific Ocean. I don’t know precisely where I landed, for I did it in a place uninhabited by humans. I was feeling peachy; happy to be alive. I had not expected to survive that crash in such good condition. I decided I must explore this wilderness and find a way home. Or perhaps, I thought to myself, I won’t go home. If this place felt right, perhaps I’d just stay and live a joyous new life full of adventures that would be unfathomable to those absorbed in North American culture. I walked through miles of miles of delightfully warm terrain. Hills and trees and lovely sorts of wildlife. It was truly, truly glorious. As evening greeted me, I figured I better find myself a place to rest for the night and some food to eat. I spent two hours perfecting my shelter, and boy, it was a beauty. It would have been lovely to sleep in, had I gotten the chance. I left it in search of some sort of edible substance to calm the bubbling acids in my stomach. I crept around the darkening woods and eventually spotted a tree that seemed to bear some sort of fruit. As I pondered a way to retrieve the fruit, I was viciously mauled by a tiger. She feasted on my body, and gruesomely I lived through the agony. My lower body was stripped of most of its matter. She left as the growling sounds of an automobile approached. Unfortunately, the automobile was occupied by poachers who did not recognize that I was a human screaming to be rescued. Instead, they ran me over in pursuit of the tiger, and those bits of me that were within her. In the final moments of my life, some sort of tiny rodent made a home of my large intestine.

past | future