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Life Isn’t So Bad, Is It?

The morning started off on the worst note. Trevor’s girlfriend dumped him during a long, drawn out fight. If that wasn’t bad enough, the fight caused him to be late for work; the fourth time in a month. As soon as he walked into his work cubicle he was reprimanded by his boss. Even though he had a chance to salvage his job, Trevor let his temper overcome common sense and aired out his grievances about the company. After unleashing a series of rapid fire expletives, he was fired on the spot.

Trevor didn’t bother to clean out his desk before storming out of the office building and hopping into his old black pickup truck. All he could think about was the evil things he wanted to do to his now ex-girlfriend and ex-boss. These macabre thoughts carried over to the highway where he found himself driving erratically, much too fast, and with no destination in mind. A toxic combination for any poor soul who was unlucky enough to get in his way.

During a busy stretch of highway Trevor neared an extended on-ramp. There he met a small, two-door sports car that was roaring up the ramp in a hurry. There was plenty of room for the car to merge safely as long as Trevor slowed down, sped up, or moved over to the left lane. Both vehicles were traveling side-by-side and going the same speed. Trevor needed to make a move before disaster struck.

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“Oh, fuck you!” Trevor yelled at the other driver through his window.

The cherry red sports car sped up. Noticing this, Trevor sped up to match its pace. Already losing his job and his girlfriend today, he refused to lose here as well. In his mind, this car was the final image of his old life trying to leave him behind. It didn’t make much sense, but Trevor tried to rationalize things as best he could. Deep down, though, he knew the car was running out of road and things were getting dangerous. The driver would have to make a desperate move soon.

“Yeah, that’s right. Wait your turn you rich asshole!” Trevor hollered, even though he couldn’t see the driver through the car’s tinted windows.

The on-ramp was coming to an end and Trevor wouldn’t let up, so the driver of the sports car was forced to rapidly slow down. A sense of victory washed over Trevor as he watched the red car in his rear view struggling to merge behind him. The car nearly ran afoul of a semi-truck, but just managed to get on the highway safely.

“Prick,” Trevor grumbled. A small part of him hoped something awful would’ve happened to the faceless driver. He felt the crashing of a rich stranger would represent a balancing of what was fair and just. If he had such an awful day, it only made sense that somebody else should have a worse one.

Ten minutes down the road and the traffic began to let up. The merging incident had already left Trevor’s mind and he was caught up in revenge fantasies once more. He imagined tying his ex to a chair and telling her about everything wrong thing she ever did—tell her about how badly she had always treated him and how she would never find an amazing guy like him again.


“All he could think about was the evil things he wanted to do…”


While he was engrossed in his own thoughts, a flash of red crossed Trevor’s peripherals. He whipped his head to the side to see the red sports car racing past him on the left. Trevor’s focus shifted back to the red car and he sped up as much as he could to meet its speed. The old pickup truck started shaking and rattling like the frame was going to fall apart. There was no way he could keep up.

Trevor slammed his fist against the steering wheel and yelled, “Dammit!”

He couldn’t do anything other than watch as the car vanished over an upcoming hill. He’d lost again. Or so he thought, until he came up to another congested portion of road. Much to his pleasure, the sports car was right in front him as traffic came to a near standstill.

“That’s right fucker, I got you now.”

The traffic moved at a snail’s pace. The sports car kept speeding up and slamming on its brakes each time the traffic lurched forward. An air of superiority washed over Trevor as he watched the impatient driver fail to make much forward progress.

“Yup! You’re stuck here just like me.” A daft giddiness took hold of Trevor and he started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in a sporadic rhythm.

The sports car kept cutting back-and-forth between lanes while traffic picked up, but it never got so much as a car’s length ahead of Trevor, though. All this moving around started to irritate Trevor. He couldn’t figure out why this person was in such a hurry, and the thought that this rich stranger felt he deserved he could drive however he pleased grated Trevor’s nerves.

“You’re not getting there any faster, asshole!” Trevor shouted.

Thinking it over, Trevor decided where his end destination was going to be: he was going to follow this red car and confront the driver whenever they made it somewhere off the highway. So he did just that—following the red car down the highway for another ten minutes until it suddenly flew down an exit ramp. The car drove so fast that Trevor almost missed the ramp—cutting a dump truck off so he could make the exit.

“What the hell? Idiot,” he stammered as his adrenaline settled back to normal.

Coming off the exit, the two vehicles began to make their way through a series of small neighborhoods. The red car zipped through the tight roads, ran stop signs, and drove well over the local speed limits. This pissed Trevor off as he struggled to keep up in his clunky pickup truck.

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