The Trolley
Well it was the summer holidays, nothing to do, and no one to do. We quickly got bored, an occupational hazard when it came down to it, while walking near a Coles carpark. The dust was swirling over the bitumen, rising in pillars of despair, we moved around and we gazed upon two trolleys with some elastics straps dangling from their sides, a swift idea popped into our head, rare but not entirely unheard of.

We in our vast wisdom, decided that true, no one and we mean no one had ever ridden down the Cathedral hill in a trolley before, our imagination knew no bounds, quickly we moved, faster than the closed eyes of a smack addict can see, we stole the trolleys, fast we moved, in the direction of Cathedral hill with our loot, and our great plan unfolding in our minds, as one we thought, the depth and unity of our imagination knowing no bounds.

Upon reaching the top of the hill we gazed down at the 200m (220 yards) slope ahead of us, with a gradient of 40 degrees off vertical. The chances of the passenger in the mighty trolley construct reaching the bottom of the hill intact 1%, if they reached the bottom of the hill the chances of being hit by a car 75%, perfect.

Quickly, not one but three, of us piled into the trolley, our companions lifting the other trolley over on top and attaching the elastic straps to the other, so we could not leap out if our courage broke. Then we headed forward towards the start of the descent our comrades pushing us, guiding us towards the proper position with the necessary speed for a truly miraculous crash. 

As we headed towards terminal velocity, out trolley twisting and bending, a wheel gave out, causing the trolley to collapse in that corner, with a sharp jolt coursing through our bodies we felt the impact as the steel struck the pavement, causing the trolley to flip into the air, as it landed it ripped the straps in half, a shrill shriek went up from the tortured metal, so far none of us had been injured, then the trolleys snapped apart, forcing us out into the air, the three of us tumbling down the hill, the bitumen tearing through or jeans, our bones snapping, the pain glorious pain. Then as we slowed the trolleys caught up, shards of the trolleys first striking into our bodies, screams from my friends, groans of pleasure from me, then the sharp corner of the bottom trolley slammed into my hip, severing my leg from my body, even I felt the agony of that.

The next thing I knew, was waking in the emergency ward of the hospital, with the two remaining members of our group of friends. “Mark, man, Chris, Travis, they’re…dead.” A smile crossed my face, at least they had made it with style, I’d have to wait out my lonely existence with one leg, unable to truly go out in a pillar of creativity.