No bull

The following story is a fairly long one. It wasn't written by me, but rather by a friend who had an unfortunate accident one night in Western Australia. The story was written only a few hours after the accident, and for that reason I've left it largely unedited.

I don't know about you, but for me, this is one of the most entertaining things I've ever read. (I'm such a heartless bastard). Enjoy!

N.B. "Robertson" is an old schoolfriend who started ditching get-togethers in favour of hanging out with a group of role-players. And in case you can't tell, the friend who wrote this story really hates role-players.

My car smashed into a huge bull carcass on the way back to Derby from Broome tonight. Some arsehole truck driver before me hit it and just left it lying in the middle of the lane. My feeble Mazda had no chance. I rolled over three times and the car ended up on the side of the road facing Broome. Luckily a car drove past pretty quickly and the guys in it tied the bull to their 4-wheel drive and pulled it off the road so there would be no more accidents. The bull wasn't quite dead, or at least its body made gurgling noises as the 4 wheel drive dragged it. They also spoke of returning to cut meat off the bull, which seemed to be making them hungry. They were serious about this too, I think, because they spoke about how uncommon it was to have that much meat available. So though the bull was the source of my misfortune, for them it was Christmas come early, which is just swell except my car isn't insured anymore (I changed to third-party a few months ago).

Anyway, my Nintendo DS was intact. The road-kill-eaters (I feel slack dissing them because they helped) dropped me off at the hospital and they reckon I'm ok just in shock and I will probably hurt a bit tomorrow. It was freaky because I could feel my head hitting the roof as the car rolled and I was thinking “should I protect my head with my hands” and then I go “no I don't want to cut my hands” and then I remembered my head and chest were more important than my hands so I covered them but then the car stopped rolling anyway. And at the same time I was thinking how messed up I would be and how like parts of my body would be all over the place, and how I couldn't feel it yet because I was numb. And I had three-quarters of an Eagle Boys pizza in the back of the car and it flew all over the place and when I came back to inspect the car in the dark I thought the mangled pepperoni pizza was pieces of my flesh, like I had been torn apart by one of those totally awesome werewolves in that game Robertson plays because it's awesomer than meeting his friends once every six months. But I have barely a scratch because of safety glass and all that.

The pricks at the hospital made me do a urine test. Is that compulsory or did they think I was a druggie because I think it's OK to wear a Fantastic Four shirt at 27? Anyway they had to play with half a cup of my urine so the joke's on them. Then they forgot they already had a cup of my urine and asked me to urinate again I think they're weird fetishists or something, so I explained that they already had a sample of my urine but I gave them a brochure for the role-play society just in case they wanted to hang out with other people who think consuming body fluids is cool.

Anyway the car is designed to fall apart to protect the driver which is good but lame from a financial perspective as I will almost certainly need to buy a new car.

I will try to return to the scene to get photos of the deceased bull and the deceased car for your enjoyment. I apologise for not getting pictures at the time it happened, this was very thoughtless and inconsiderate of me, but I was more concerned with being alive. But it will be awesomer later after my saviours have cut chunks out of the lame car-wrecking bull and you can laugh at its dead bull innards which will be a fitting punishment for its (car-abusing) kind (but I would rather have photos of the truckdriver with his stomach torn open. Prick).

Lameness.