Congratulations on Winning the Death Race!

When the wheel well of Margaret’s Focus collapses under your rear bumper you’ll know that you’ve won. The action packed death race which has had you speeding across the country, vehicular-manslaughtering people left and right. Margaret was the last, a former demolition derby driver who didn’t think a single mom had what it take to beat her in a national competition. You’ll smirk, remembering her handshake as you watch her vehicle fishtail and flip end over end into a ditch before catching fire.

You’ll pop your e-brake and skid to a stop at the side of the road, exiting your vehicle and aiming your race regulation pistol at the wreck, advancing cautiously. When you get there she’ll be hanging halfway out of her car, her arm pinned beneath her steering wheel.

She’ll look up at you, wordlessly begging you for mercy. But you won’t have survived this long by showing emotion all willy nilly. So you’ll give her what mercy you can, firing your pistol repeatedly at her face and chest until it clicks. Then you’ll saunter back to your Subaru Legacy and drive the rest of the way to Columbus, never edging the spedometer over 50 miles per hour.

When you arrive the race administrator will hand you a voucher for eight years of day care, a lifetime supply of Chef Boyardee products and a set of documents outlining your acceptance and scholarship to SUNY-Binghamton. The future will be bright now that you’ve committed multiple murders, but you’d do it all again for an education and the ability to provide your son with incredibly unhealthy food indefinitely.

Congratulations on Winning the Death Race!