They Had Goat Heads

MONSTER TRUCK





A man wanted to be a monster truck. All day and night, he made vrooming noises and hurled himself over long sequences of beat-up smart cars.

One night he welded giant wheels onto his elbows and knees . . .

“Whoever fights monster trucks should see to it that in the process she does not become a monster truck,” said his wife when he tried to crawl into bed. She pointed at the door. The man fell forward onto his wheels and puttered down to the living room couch.

He dreamt of mud-stained windshields, Brobdingnagian engines and sperm whale spoilers . . .

The next morning, the man opened his chest and tuned up his arteries with a monkey wrench. He ate breakfast and drove to work. He drove over his secretary and officemates and his boss. He turned in his resignation and departed in an apocalypse of smoke and skid marks.

On his way home, he swerved into a lamppost and totaled himself . . .