There was a firetruck named Jerry. He was brand new, fresh out of the factory, and was sitting in the sunlight in front of the fire station. He wasn't sure why he was self-aware and he was scared of this new awareness. He tried to calm himself, reminding himself of his purpose, he was here to serve and protect humans from fire. He glanced across the street and saw a little boy playing with a sprinkler. He was having so much fun. Jerry was enthralled, he couldn't take his eyes off the boy as he jumped around in the water, dancing and enjoying the water. Jerry forgot that he was a firetruck and raced over to the boy, taking a telephone pole and a small scooter with him in the process. Jerry was so happy driving back and forth through the water as it splashed against his windshield and mirrors. He was lost in pure joy and didn't immediately hear the screaming. He looked around and saw a woman pointing at him, tears running down her face and screaming in terror. He glanced down and saw the driveway was slowly being covered in red, the water mixing with red turning it slowly pink. He backed up, crushing a police cruiser with two officers inside who had responded to the distressed woman calling. Jerry panicked, not sure what to do, he tried to drive away. He had to get away from the horror. And then he felt pain, his whole chassis shook, as he saw a man walk into view holding a shotgun. He blasted at Jerry again, this time hitting the firetruck's fuel line. Jerry felt the world around him slowly go dark. Again he tried in vain to get away. Another blast. His taillights shattering and falling to the ground. And then, flames coursed around Jerry. Pain coursed through him and below his wheels started to melt and then popped. Jerrys' siren went off and he let out a long honk. Within a minute, it stopped and his engine slowed and finally came to a halt. Jerry, the first sentient firetruck, was dead.
Don't judge :)
No comments:
Post a Comment