Hot wheels
Molten hot rubber pounds across the track, ripples of flames igniting the road in a sea of fire. The eye can only catch a glimpse of the blue and yellow bullet, its grace and speed only rivaled by NASA’s attempts to match the grace and skill of his car. “Go! Go!” Cristian’s breath is hitched in his throat, the suffocating pressure of the race both sending his young heart into overdrive, and granting him the thrill of a lifetime. He licks his lips hungrily, unable to stop himself from hungering over victory, though his competition has staked a claim to a second place that is mere seconds away from his leading position. Sweat blossoms beneath the freshly washed curls that dangle across his forehead; he’ll leave My World on repeat, but he’s far too sophisticated to cut his David-esque curls into the signature Bieber swoop. He’s crouched on his knees, as close to the blazing track as safety would allow - his hair blows back whenever the tip of his nose leans in too close. Not even the latest Kids Bop Track can claim its as fire as this. “Your butt is about to eat my farts, ugly!” The finger he wears his Cartier ring on (specially made to fit the lithe fingers of a child) flicks his cousin in the eye, nearly sending the L.L. Bean clad child flying backwards. Cristian knows he’ll be threatened with a time-out later for the daring act - but he’s too flushed, too brazen, to invigorated by the race to care about the consequences. Besides, it’s not his parents wouldn’t allow him to hit the back to back Spongebob Episodes. The cars turn the final curve of the track, their doors kissing as they fight to emerge from the turn in a victorious position. Cristian’s docile brown eyes are widened in a fit of fear as his cousin’s ugli car dares to edge ahead; if he lost, he’d be forced to forfeit his metwoo card. And that’d make him an ugli caca head! He sends up a prayer to the legendary 3oh!3, musical legends who will never fade - and sucks in a sharp inhale of breath as the blue and yellow car, his baby, Lil’ Cristian, sends blue sparks flying as it flies past the finish line, a daring milliseconds ahead of the competition.
Swish, swag, holla - he’s won. As the deafening applause and wails of failure from his cousin cloud his senses, he rises, his fists raised to the Heavens - Praise the Lord, for he giveth. Cristian is alive, he is exultant, and he knows nothing could ever touch him in a moment like this.
This is Hot Wheels- Feel the Speed. Feel the Rush.
