toys in the hands of an ego tripped boy

I never realized that one must get clean in order to get out of the tub, I just figured that every boy in the world would take their cars and soap down the rail and run the fastest one on the track so they could go into a spiral death loop and crash into the wall where they would try to back up but descend into the water where if the death loop had not gotten them then the water would.

This power trip drove me incisively for many months until a D-Day of sorts occurred.

Unfortunately, around the second grade I realized that I my earlier longings of acceptance from those incredible plastic heroes had eroded to nothing more than just a sigh for what used to be. These guys were ruthless; they loved to torcher others, not with bodily harm but with early 80’s Contemporary Christian Music. I was not one of those children who wanted to be a NASCAR driver, nor did I want to be a stockcar driver. I wanted the power to just drive two cars at mock speeds into oblivion (or at least how fast I thought oblivion was). Well, he did put water in the bathtub but he had forgotten to tell me two important articles of information: first, he had soaped down the bathtub rail so that he could slide his cars on it and into the water. My older brother and I would get such a rush out of crashing our cars in different positions such as throwing the cars up on the roof where they would have to race back down and plummet to their demise or racing the cars in a muddy backyard brickyard. One evening my brother had been washing in the bath tub when he decided get out and drain the water. We would have the grandest of crashes; the most spectacular of daredevil events, but the greatest perk was that everyone could die because I the grand master of ceremonies was happy. I soon became very pensive about this issue and my earlier emotional ties were broken and won over by how cool matchbox cars were. She then rushed up stairs to tell him to save the rest of the water in the tub, but she had come too late and the water had been lost. I had become the Napoleon of the NASCAR, the Castro of the Cars; I was grand dictator of who lived and who died. Because these guys were such studs; when I thought about me not able to go outside with kids was alright with it because the Joes were better than any boy or girl that I could hang out with (and I couldn’t get them sick either).