Nonsense II

Look beyond the road

It's a sensation overload

Does it leave you irked?

Does it leave you bored?

Or are you sweaty n' uneasy,

And squirmin' like a toad?

Not a pretty picture
"NOOOOO", they shriek
"Look at him, that guy's a goddamn freak!"
Hacking, quartering
Sawing, strangling
It's all a part of your daily effing fixture

You look into her eyes, your own bein' bloodshot
You're just playing your part in the grisly plot
She screamed, she cried, she ended up begging
No let-up from you, your anger it wasn't ebbing

You cut open her bust
Blood spilled her guts
Yeah, now you're feelin' the rush
Nothing beats this endorphin buzz

You aren't a poet, obviously. Not even remotely. A tatty Audrey Hepburn impersonator over the vehicle's sat-nav issues instructions: "Range to next fill-up : 178 kms.... Weather conditions : Partly cloudy, with minimal chance of rainfall. 40 kms to destination..."

You assimilate the shit she said, and swerve to avoid a loon with too much hair product in his...well, hair and too much power under the bonnet. You wonder how it would feel to behead these philistines. You think of all the enjoyable things you would do to them after they had breathed their last.

The next thing you heard from the lady on the sat-nav - "Shoot yourself in the nuts, sir. And then do the same to your head."

Your car was found the next morning smashed up against an elm tree that had no business being where it was. It had taken a substantial portion of the armco barrier with it. The forensics team couldn't unearth anything exciting. The police said nobody in the car would have or could have survived the impact, but how does it matter to you? It's not as if you were exactly alive the instant you rammed into the armco.

Now that it's all over, I feel a sense of sadness.

You were driving a Dacia Sandero.