“Well gang, it looks like we are ready to head out,” Missy said to her family. Her family consisted of her husband, Will, her eleven year old daughter, Sarah, and her young two year old son, Ricky. Missy was your stereotypical proud mom. The one who would always brag about how Sarah would be a knock out in high school. How her wee Ricky was the cutest little thing in the world and all that generic drivel that mothers are programmed to spew out in those annoying pseudo-sweet yet holier-than-thou voices.

“Got the keys?” Will asked Missy.

“Already in the ignition,” she said as she got in the driver’s seat of the car. Eager to sally forth, she turned the car on.

“Oh rats, I forgot to get the camera. I’ll go find it,” Will said in an almost pained voice. He was ready to get rocking down to Big Sur. Fun, sun, good times without spending a dime, that’s the sort of thing Will was into. He jogged back up the steep driveway and into the house. Stepping in the door, he looked to where he last saw it, the dining room table, and saw it wasn’t there. {Damn}, he thought. He then did a cursory search whilst frolicking (purely for purposes of speed, he certainly didn’t enjoy the frolic…) about the house. He was then struck by an epic epiphany. He ran to where the camera is supposed to be kept. He was about to open up the cabinet, filled with anticipation and exhilaration at his logical idea of where to look. He pulled open the cabinet and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the black leather camera case. Hesitantly, almost dreamlike, Will extended his arm for case, his shaking hand surrounded it, a wry half-smile touched Will’s lips as he grasped the case… It was not meant to be as the case collapsed under the pressure. He peered inside the case and saw nothing but a black abyss. Will roared a terrible roar. It shook the very house; it could be heard for miles and miles. Birds mistook it as a threat and hastily flapped out of their trees, cawing warnings to each other. A box of cereal tumbled out of a nearby cabinet, frosted flakes spilling onto the ground.

The rest of Will’s family heard this roar, those who could run over to see what was the matter, did. That is to say, Missy and Sarah went to accompany their demoralized loved one. This left the curious young Ricky in the car.

“Honey, what happened?” Missy fervently inquired. Sarah stood next to Missy, clutching her mother around the waist, worried something bad was going on.

“Where’d you put the da-” Will started.

“Hey, watch your language in front of Sarah!” Missy interjected.

“Where’d you put the camera?” Will corrected.

“Here we’ll help you find it,” she said in an impatient tone.

Meanwhile, in the back seat of the family-friendly dark green minivan, Little Ricky was growing ever more bored with waiting for the familial units to return from their little Easter-egg hunt. {I want to go}, he whiningly thought. {Where did they all go? I’m bored}. Ricky was a devilishly curious youngling and curiosity coupled with boredom often leads to no good. {Explore}, decided Ricky. He rolled himself out of the back seat, plummeting awkwardly to the ground. However, he did not let this tumble deter him from his quest to further his knowledge via explorative routes. Ricky picked himself back up and bravely crawled forth. He knew he could walk but preferred the crawl for its stability. He sashayed between the two front seats and lifted one small stubby hand onto the seat. He pushed himself onto two feet; grating his teeth with effort, he clambered over and onto the seat. {Whoo-wee}.

Cherry-faced from exertion, Ricky took some time to regain his stamina. His eyes darted about the foreign surrounding. In an effort to familiarize himself with this new environment, Ricky touched the steering wheel. His hand dragged across the grey dashboard, then poked around the car’s stereo. {Push}. Green lights flickered on and a voice suddenly popped into the car talking about the state of the economy. Ricky looked around the car and couldn’t see anyone. He came to the logical conclusion that the man must be inside the stereo.

Trying to be congenial, like his mother always encouraged, Ricky tried to strike up a conversation in somewhat broken English, “Hey-lo?” The voice droned on and Ricky didn’t think that he was heard. He continued, “Why are you in the box, Mr. Man?” Again, Ricky felt he was ignored. He sunk into the beige seat. Ricky was bearing some intense lower lip action – a sure sign of a serious pout. {He won’t even listen to me}. It made him genuinely sad. But then that offense was forgotten as something else in the car caught his attention. {Stick}.

That is to say, {gearstick}. He was fascinated by this strange device jutting up from near the cup holders. {Experiment}, he thought dangerously, {pul}l. Ricky reached his hand toward the gearstick, grasped it, and with all his might, he pulled back. So magnificent was this effort, that when the stick locked into {reverse} he catapulted back a wee bit due to inertia. The car lurched. Ricky quickly scrambled back up and quirked his head, vexed by what caused the car to move like that. The minivan slowly teetered back, but little by little gained speed. That is until it reached the tipping point.

At that single instant, the speed increased exponentially as the minivan gained enough momentum to catapult itself at forty miles an hour down the steep driveway. Ricky was stunned.

Back in the house, the search for the camera continued. Will suddenly heard a faint noise. At first he passed it off as nothing. However, the more he thought of it (and he was thinking awfully quickly), the more concerned he became. He had an inexplicable gut feeling that something was not right, until he finally rallied the inspiration to inquire, “What was that?”

“What?” Missy asked.

“I think I heard something.” Will then cautiously walked over to the window, cracked the blinds, and peered out. That’s when he saw the minivan shooting down the driveway. Will stood agape, then he regained his senses. He ran out the front door and watched in sheer horror as the colossal construct continued to gain momentum. His wife and daughter had followed him and now saw what the problem was.
Inside of the car, Ricky was having the time of his life watching trees and road flash by at what seemed to be a million miles an hour. He noticed how the colors just seemed to melt together in a beautiful amalgamation of vivid iridescence. Fun.

The car was whooshing down the road and Will’s heart sank as he saw the minivan approaching a pothole at the end of the driveway. Missy was screaming her face crimson, demanding that Will do something. There was nothing to be done.

Ricky was grinning. That is, until the car hit the pothole. The back left tire fell deep into it and the minivan was in for a wild(er) ride. The minivan struck the pothole and flipped. While rotating, it landed upside-down on its side as sparks, gravel, and chips of green paint dispersed into the air. There was a perturbing screech as metal fought against gravel. Ricky, inside, was being jostled about in a most uncomfortable manner. Banging into seats and the ceiling of the minivan, he was lucky enough to not have slammed into any windows. As the car barreled down the rest of the driveway, the glass began to split and crack. The noise was lethal. But before it managed to do that, it had reached the street, bounced on its roof, and propelled itself into the green of the neighbor’s nice, soft, and safe shrubbery, landing near perfectly on its four wheels.

Luckily, the neighbors weren’t home.

Will and Missy sprinted down the hill, or at least as close as you could get to sprinting down a hill without tripping and falling, leaving Sarah standing awkwardly alone at the top of the driveway. Missy stumbled a bit; managed to catch her balance. Tears streaming down her face, she ripped open the minivan’s side slide door and grabbed the dazed Ricky, holding him tight to her chest. She thought she heard him mumble something about a voice, but couldn’t be sure.

About a week later, when left in the company of Bethany and Rick, they considered taking him to the doctor. This thought struck them when Little Ricky had tripped and fallen. Rick had leaned down to help pick him up. He did so by the arms, to which Little Ricky screamed.

And so he began his merry trek to the Doc’s Office in the cheerful company of Bethany and Rick. They were worried sick.