13TH FLOOR ELEVATORS

I thought of playing around, Photoshop this evil car to death. Hey, I was just not in the mood, and since I can't drive one I thought of destroying one!

Please read the shortened-as-favor-to-the-reader story about why any sane person would want to destroy this baby?

My mother said, “Don’t you ever, ever drive or buy…or even dream of red sports-car, you hear me?”
This was when I was seventeen years old. This was when I was rebelling against every authority and breathing-soul. Disobedient at home; terrorizing the neighborhood; noncompliant at school; nonconformist of church; protesting the slaughterhouse on Elm Street.
This was 1987. When Michael Jackson ranted “Who’s bad?” in his song titled, well, “Bad”. And I formed a gang called, well, you guessed it, The Bad Rats, which was first thought to be called, The Bad Brats. I didn’t like the sound of it, so I removed the letter B.
This was when my mother was alive, young and beautiful with a piercing, huge blue eyes, slightly softened by her long, delicate golden-hair run down her shoulders.
“Why?” I snapped defiantly.
“Because I say so”
“Yeah, right” I slammed the door.
Later, I found out that she had been to a fortune-teller. “You have a young boy, “ told her the fortune-teller. “Smart. But not obedient. He will be very successful and rich when a man. Ooh, boy! Mamma mia! jesus christ ed agrifoglio si sposa! The fortune-teller murmurs, making a cross sign with her hand. I see no good. He will have a small accident in the near future. When he’s grown up and become rich, he will buy a red car…expensive sports-car and will have a big accident. Very serious. Maybe die.
The next day, it was hot and humid. As the Walkman Head-phones, as big as a helmet, streamed Scorpions into my ears, I rode my motorbike to St. Peter’s Church. I left it in the front yard unlocked, while Maria Magdalena’s, chipped and worn-hole-like eyes embedded in her stone head, looked down at me, I headed toward the rocky mountains.
I heard nothing but the music…I could feel my heart pounding as I climbed up. The Devil’s Needle Peak’s face was glistening under the blazing sun.
Finally I stood up right, feeling the smooth granite under my feet despite the thick-rubber ridged soles of the boots. I was at the top of the universe alone. Canopy of dark green foliage unfolded across the valley floor as far as the eye could see; fuzzy patterns of a vast green carpet.
The wind was strong yet gentle. I walked over to the edge of the granite cliff. Gulping the gust of air deep into my lungs, I closed my eyes and spread my both arms, trying to keep steady against the blustery wind. I was a shape of a cross. “Hoo-waah!” I shouted more than once. “Look at me, Maria! I’m a cross! Look at me!”
Something moved under my right foot and I was flying, skydiving, “Maria!” I shouted. I wanted to say, “Look at me. I’m flying angel”. But I was cut off, falling now, rolling down as hard, pointed rocks tear through my skin, it stung. I fell asleep. Was I dead? I kept seeing, or dreaming of a woman as hairless as a baby’s pale skin…sick, yellowish…it was the Fortuneteller…
I never bought or drove a red car let alone a red sports car. Thinking, why take chance when there are as many different color cars as there are colors. And I don’t like red cars. I don’t think there are many brands of cars that can carry red color. Red, along with white, makes the car look cheap and second-rate whereas a silver makes any car look noble and expensive…Can anybody tell me if there is an uglier car than a red Toyota Corolla? Please?
The only car which can pull it off with red color is Ferrari. Although, the Fortuneteller did not mention the brand of Ferrari, I mean hey, of her being an Italian descent, I don’t think she meant a red Mazda Miata, do you?

Thursday, 2/11/10
Everyone on our floor was beginning to get “cabin fever.” We haven’t had classes all week, so far, and were getting irritated because we couldn’t go outside due to the cold, snowy, and icy weather conditions. “What do you all want to do?” I asked. At the same time, all four of my friends looked at me with the expression that said, “There is NOTHING to do.” I admit I didn’t think there was anything to do either, but that was when an idea popped into my head: bowling. Obviously we couldn’t go to a bowling alley with the roads being so dangerous, but what if we created our own? I hustled over to our cardboard recycling box and picked out 10 empty water bottles. “These can be used as pins!” I thought to myself. Then, I wondered, “What could we use as a bowling ball?” This was when I remembered that my suitemates had a little rubber basketball. So, I marched over to their room, knocked on the door, and politely asked if we could borrow the ball. Without any questions, they lent me the ball. I wanted to make sure my idea was going to work before I told anyone. Since we couldn’t play bowling in the middle of a hallway, I set up a miniature lane in our study lounge, which was deserted. I quickly set up the 10 “pins,” went to the other side of the room, and tried out my invention. I rolled the bouncy basketball down the imaginary lane. “YES!” I yelled with excitement. My idea worked and I got a “strike.” I ran to get my friends who were watching TV in my dorm room. “Hey! I found something we can do and it’s a lot of fun!” I eed. It took me awhile to get them all off their feet and into the study lounge. When we arrived at the lounge, I could tell when they saw the “bowling lane” that they were as excited as I was. Goodbye cabin fever! Glad that my friends were back to their cheery selves, I cranked up the music on my laptop and everyone played water bottle bowling until the wee hours of the morning.