the loudest it's ever been.

I couldn't of told you what it was like before and I can't tell you what it was like after.

It just happens.

Driving. Driving. Brakes. Horn. Next thing I know somehow my belt is off and I'm scrambling for my glasses. Smoke is rising. From where? I don't know. I don't get it. I hate that smell. Smells like rotting death. Maybe it was what Luke smelled when he was burning his dad, but that probably smelled worse.

Where's my phone? Where are my glasses? I just see shards of plastic. Is my phone destroyed? There are my glasses. The airbags went off. Lucky. Okay. Where's my phone. There it is. Should I call my mom first? Someone honks their horns at me. "Hey man, do you need help?" I should call 911.

"Sir? Sir?"
"Sorry. My ear. The sound is muffled."
"What is the problem?"

Where is the other guy? He's over there. How bad is it? I walk over to the other side. Hideous. Deformed. Not the way I know it. This is so fucked up.

"Swan and Speedway. I'm okay. I think he's okay. What? What? I can't hear you. I'm sorry, the sound is muffled in this ear. No, the 911 lady said to keep it here. I know it's in the middle of the intersection, they can drive around. I'm sorry? Are you still there? Yes. Swan and Speedway."

He's okay. He looks better than me. He seems like a nice guy. He understands. I apologize. He doesn't for some reason. Fucking jerk. This wasn't even my fault.

"Give me a sec."

I pull out my phone. "Mom?"

What's taking the cops so long?

Someone driving by asks if we're alright. I give him a thumbs up. I want to cry.

Some truck drives by and yells, "Fucking idiots." I hope he got into something worse than me after he said that clever one liner.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. I can't open the passenger side. I just want my sweater. Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck this.

Finally, they come. Nice cops. Not the bad kind.

Where are they moving her? Just pushing her down the street like nothing. I have shit in there. Can I get it later? Where are they putting her? She's fucking gone for good. Fuck me. My registration is in there, dipshit. Do you know anyone who carries that around in their wallet, asshole?

Finally. My mom. Big hug. The cops explain some things. I'm not crying. I'm proud of myself. I'm not crying.

Yet.

Walk over to her. Here it comes. I can't form sentences. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. I loved her. I still love her. Demolished. Fucking gone. At least I'm not, right? At least I'm here. Las Vegas porno cards. I still can't open the goddamn fucking passenger door. Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck this.

Crying. I don't care. Crying. Crying. Just not in front of those fat cops. Not in front of them. Why? Because fuck them, that's why.

You don't care about what I'm studying in school. Stop fucking pretending. Fuck you.

I want to keep it. Just keep it in our driveway. They tow it away. I like this guy, though. He's better than the cops. "That's because you have to put it in park." Fuck. That's so obvious.

"Can I keep the key?"
"Ha ha, nope. Sorry. We need that."

"This is the case number." No ticket. No nothing. This was his fucking fault and nothing.

No one's hurt. No one bleeding. No one aching. Thank God.

Cry the way back home. Not staying down there tonight.

I loved her. She had problems but I loved her. She was falling apart but I loved her. I had my first sexual experience in her. I sang along to my favorite songs with my best friend in her. I loved her.

Ringing in my ears now. The loudest it's ever been.

Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck off.

*

1990-2008
Trying to have a sense of humor about shitty things.