Dylan Wise was dead to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that. If he hadn’t been dead, he would really wish that he was, considering the situation that he was in. He tried to recall the recent events that had gotten him to this point. Why was he here? He thought that he had done everything right. If that was the case, he wouldn’t be here, though. This was an awful place, an awful situation, one that could not possibly be one he deserved to be put in. It was the weirdest feeling he had ever experienced. He was dead, but he saw, felt, and smelled things as if he were still alive. All 5 of his senses were intact. He was able to move. Though, everything felt surreal. He was sitting in the seat of a Tesla P90D, a car that (in life) he hated with a passion (there was not much he hated more than Tesla automobiles). His hands were stuck to the steering wheel because of some invisible force and the radio was playing the voice of Elon Musk, the man who created Tesla (a man Dylan had never been fond of) with that annoying kpop music that Dylan hated so much playing in the background. All he could do was drive the car. He had no other choice. Nothing to do. Dylan would have to do something for eternity that, in life, he would have hated to do for even 10 minutes. To make things worse, Dylan’s sister and her friend were sitting in the back of the car whining at him about how to drive. After five minutes, he slammed his head against the steering wheel and rammed the gas pedal to the floor, forcing the $200,000 Tesla to speeds in excess of 200 mph. He looked around, ignoring the screams and pounding on his seat as his sister and her friend yelled at him to slow down. There was nothing around for miles. He was in an icy, frozen wasteland. He needed to find something. Something to make this all end. Then, after a long moment of speeding around in the car, an iceberg appeared. Dylan turned the car toward it, wanting to crash the car into the object in hopes that whatever was happening to him would end. His sister, obviously not real, pounded on the back of his seat, kicking at him repeatedly and telling him to stop. Dylan didn’t listen. He kept going, kept making the car climb to greater and greater speeds. He looked at the speedometer as the iceberg grew closer and closer. 250 miles per hour, a speed great enough to tear the car in two upon impact. Then, it happened.

The car slammed into the iceberg at a speed faster than Dylan had ever travelled in his lifetime. The force threw him through the windshield and into the iceberg. His sister and her friend (again, not real people) disappeared just before the car crashed. Dylan, already dead, was unharmed by the accident. Unfortunately for him, neither was the car. It was as if the crash never even happened. The only remnants of the iceberg were a few shattered pieces of ice, like glass from a window. Dylan yelped in pain as he crawled off of the iceberg, ice in his back momentarily before everything he had done to himself was rendered inconsequential. Just as he was about to be excited by the fact that he was not in the Tesla anymore, some unseen force transported Dylan back into the car, placing him in the driver’s seat and locking him back in. Dylan punched the steering wheel of the Tesla, sounding the horn three times. Well, at least the radio isn’t playing that horrible music., he thought to himself. As if on cue, the radio instantly sprang to life, as if it had never been damaged in the first place. The annoying kpop music rang through the Harmon Kardon speakers of the electric sports car once again, tormenting Dylan and rendering his latest actions inconsequential. Dylan screamed over the sound of the music and kicked the speaker beside his door with such force that the driver’s side door panel cracked, breaking off pieces of the electric car’s interior and throwing them onto the floor around the driver’s seat. His sister and her friend began to express their protest as he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and accelerated again. He cursed and spit on the front passenger seat just as the driver’s side door panel regenerated. This was eternity for him. This was what he was going to have to be stuck with forever. How was he supposed to deal with that? He was angry and exhausted after a few minutes, how was he supposed to deal with this forever? What could he do to make sure that this wasn’t the case? There had to be something. Something that would alleviate him from all of this eternal suffering. Then, he saw it. It was speeding towards him at an incredible speed, it’s glorious supercharged 6.2-liter V8 roaring as it reached an incredible speed. His jaw dropped. He cursed as he stopped the Tesla and yanked on the locks that were holding him in place. This could go from hell to heaven if he played his cards right. The Corvette Z06 was within inches of his Tesla prison now. It was staring him right in the face. But, as Dylan tried as hard as he could to stop the Tesla, the car moved to autopilot and forced him to travel past the Z06. It faded from his view as quickly as it had arrived. The Z06 was now gone, lost somewhere in the distance, its LT4 screaming and piercing the silence of the empty frozen wasteland. Dylan punched the steering wheel, honking the horn, and uttered a slew of curse words as he took in his present situation. This was awful, the worst thing he had ever had to go through. Not only was he trapped inside of his least favorite car on the planet, but now he had seen his favorite car in the world drive by him (as if to tease him), knowing that he would never be able to sit in it’s drivers seat, hold it’s steering wheel, or run through it’s gears. This was rock bottom. It couldn’t get any worse for him. He would spend eternity either accepting the fact that he was trapped inside of this car or he would continuously wreck it into things, knowing that it would regenerate each time.