Coming out of the hospital, I looked down. My right leg had gone.
Summer evenings in Bali were slow. A heady mixture of sloth and intoxication. The blurry horizon dripping into the sea. A small boat bobbed on the silky sea, slipping and sliding across the shore. A couple huddled against the rocks, their formation set in stone. Jogging down the beach, my eyes floated onto the assortment of huts packaged like candy on the outer lace of the sand. Appearing from the huts was Bridget Busborth, the most beautiful woman the world ever saw. Swaying her hair from one side to another, she rolled her locks into a tight bun and looked up. “Hey!”, she blurted, as she saw me. “Hey Bridget. Looking nice. So erm, wanna come ride with me to get a black rice and creamy curry tum-tum from Jahinio’s out of town?”. She contemplated for a long, stretching second. “Okay, sure!”.
Driving down the Luampania Highway in my Royal Anfield, Bridget clung onto my hips. Safe to say, it was the best feeling of my life. It should have been the best day of my life. 100mph, 110mph, 130mph, 140mph. Ever increasing, ever hardening. Bridget started to enjoy herself, emerging like a turtle heading to sea. In the midst of her ecstasy, she began tickling me. I could not handle the it, and my handling of the bike failed too. Laughing hysterically, I slammed the brakes. 140mph, 90 mph, 30mph, dead. Bridget was finished. I lay spewn over the burning tarmac, my legs mangled and destroyed. Even when the ambulance came, it was late. Better service than what Bridget got though.
Be safe and don’t be distracted by girls
This post was written by Trisha Cornrose