Cars and Explosions and Money and Shit.


It’s was a bitter cold December night and all the kids were parked up at Emerald Island like they usually were. Shooting the shit and racing their cars. They were really cool kids, too. Like, really cool. The kind you see hanging out by the lockers in Hollywood films that trip up the nerds that read books and shit. They didn’t give a fuck. Bets were being placed and money was passing hands. Marco, the coolest kid, had been winning shit all night long in drag races up Ridgeway Road and he had just made a ton of money. The chicks were all over him and everything.

“Which one of you sukkas wants to race me next?” he asked

Everyone turned away sheepishly. they knew there was no way he could be beat. No-one had beaten him since 2009 and they knew there was no way in hell that was going to change tonight.

“Come on, you pussies. someone must wanna dance? Anyone? what about you, Bret?” He said to a guy named Bret.

“No way, man,” he replied, “There’s no way. I’m all outta cash and my tires are a bit bald and other stuff. I just don’t want to do it.”

“Ah, c’mon! Don’t be a chicken-shit. anyone? anyone else wanna race? One more. I’m in the fucking zone!” Marco was almost shouting. His adrenaline was pumping and was getting psyched. He was on a roll, but nobody wanted a piece of that action.

He was knocking about, squaring up to people and what have you when all of a sudden there was a loud bang followed by a vroom-vroom.

BANG!

VROOM VROOM!

The gang of cool kids jumped with fright and turned around to the sight of a really bad-ass, pimped out Honda Civic Type R smashing through a billboard that must have been about three stories up. It was flying through the air with smoke coming and flames coming from the back of it an all sorts of other cool shit. It’s landed after spending about fifteen seconds flying through the air and did an awesome handbrake turn and stopped right in front of Marcos feet. No-one had ever seen anything like it.

“We’ve never seen anything like it!” said a voice.

“That was awesome!” Said another. “Who is this dude?”

With that the drivers door opened and out got a girl. Needless to say everybody was shocked. “A girl driving a car?” people started to ask each other. With that she took her helmet off (She was a very sensible driver).

“I heard one of you fuckers wants to dance. Who is it? Huh? Which one of you piss-stains wants to lose some money?” she shouted into the group. With that they began to part and up walks Marco.

“I’ll fucking dance” he said. I should point out now that ‘dance’ means a race. It was one of the slang words they used, what with being hella cool and that. They weren’t going to actually dance. That would be a gay-ass story.

“Ha! You?” She laughed at him. “Alright. I can take you. A thousand bucks. A drag up Ridgeway Road. you know the rules. Get in.” She obviously meant business.

They parked up side-by-side and got ready to race. Revving engines and shit trying to fuck with each others minds with as really hot girl standing in front of then, using an old jumper or a rag or something as a starters flag and then she started the race.

Off they went! What happened next was pretty awesome. It was tight as fuck and neck-to-neck until, like, the last 200 yards when suddenly this mystery girl hit a switch and the car just fucking flew up the road. It was nitrous oxide I think. I don’t know much about cars but I’m pretty sure it’s nitrous they use to speed off in Need For Speed. She fucking annihilated him. It was awesome. Everyone was cheering and whooping and shit. she stepped out of the car cool as anything.

“Pay up.” She said to Marco. He wasn’t very impressed by this, what with being the hottest racer that side of Atlantic.

“Pretty good,” he told her. “What’s your name?”

She took of her helmet and swung her hair around a bit to make it a bit more dramatic, looked him in the eye and said “Toree. And I’m the best mother-fucking driver in the whole god-damn country.”

“HA!” A voice laughed from in the shadows. “You think you’re the best driver in the country? you? A girl?”

“Who said that?!” Toree demanded. She was in a rage that someone would question her talents, “Show me your fucking face. Who are you?”

“I’m the best in the business,” replied the voice “And I challenge you to a race to end all races.” Headlight were turned on and out rolled a car. But not just any car. It was the car from Cars. shit just got real. Real real.

“It’s on,” said Toree in a voice as serious as the night is long, “Up Ridgeway Road, then left and down Whitesville Road. One lap. No funny business. Winner takes the losers car.”

“You’re fucking on” said the car from Cars.

They lined up at the usual starting point and did all that bull-shit of revving and what-not, trying to psyche the other one out when suddenly the race began.

VROOM! they went speeding off. Toree took the lead, doing about 80 mph in less than ten seconds cos her car was so bad-ass. She was weaving about like a loom making trousers. the lights were flying past her and she had Deadmau5 blasting from the stereo.

WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH!

Nipping between traffic like a madman, she was. The first left was approaching and she took it a bit to quickly, she tried to drift it round but ended up smashing side-on into a group of people standing on the corner, killing them all. Not instantly, but slowly crushing them. This would not be a concern though as it was the cast of Jersey Shore and no-one gives a fuck about them. If anything she was already a hero without having to win the race. She straightened up, reversed over them for good measure and took off again, straight up the road at dizzying speeds. All of a sudden she found herself having to over-take some cops. this didn’t looked good. She edged her way around them and got ready for the chase of her life.

WHOOOOOOOOOO-WHOOOOOOOOOO!

The cops were now in hot pursuit, but she had a plan. she was needing to turn down Whitesville Road soon so she wouldn’t indicate and that might buy her enough time to out-run them. this didn’t matter though because all of a sudden the cops crashed into a hobo pushing a trolley full of empty cans and fucking exploded in the coolest possible fashion. Mother-luck was on her side and she knew it.

“Banging cool” She said to herself, watching the explosion in her rear-view mirror. She took the next left clean as anything and hoofed the nitrous on and soared it toward the finish line.

This entire time the car from Cars was still on the first straight. He seemed to forget that he was just a cartoon of a toy car and couldn’t really go that fast. Sure he went fast in the films, but they were films. this was the real world.

She had fucking won again. It was awesome. And it was her birthday. She just won the car from Cars on her birthday. Then she went home and smoked a shit-ton of blunt and chugged wine until she blacked out.

The end.

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