Woman vs. Machine

I’m really having serious fantasies of driving over it with my car. Like, real, thought out, pre-meditated trips to the street in the night where I would destroy it forevermore. I hate the green gleam. I hate the choral sound of that STUPID game.

OK, it could happen tonight. Stage a brake in…it’s just after the holidays, people are desperate. And *poof* it’s just gone.
But insurance might cover that—and where would the release be?
***
The night is cold. Clear. I can hear the plinking, the booming, the revving from below. What’s really stopping me from going downstairs and ripping the controls from their sweaty little paws? I could surely get it all gathered as they sit in utter shock wondering what I could possibly be doing ripping chords and cables from the wall…
…I can feel it in my hands now. It’s heavy. And it’s hot from so much use. I worry about the cold of the snow on my bare feet, but the heat of my anger pushes me forward. The night air is still and crisp. The wind is caressing my face tempting me on. Without thinking, but fully aware I heave the square green and black abomination onto the pavement. It bounces a little and the hard sound of plastic sends a thrill up my spine. The blacktop is icy under the soles of my feet, but it’s scarcely noticeable in the heat of the moment. I think about picking it up again and smashing it into the street over and over--but no--it doesn’t seem enough. I turn on heel and head into the garage. Assessing the situation before me I see a shovel to my left. No, too quick. There is a table saw at the back and I know I could find a hammer somewhere. I turn to consider other options when I hear a soft, sweet tinkling from my left pocket. It echoes in my head like audible inspiration. Without wasting a moment I hurdle into the truck and jam the key into the ignition. I reverse out of the drive and we’re bumper to power button. I back up to get a good distance and flip on the lights. The box gleams back at me, taunting somehow. With a squeal of the tires I’m racing towards it, now over it, now past it! A circuit board flips out of the top as the casing splinters. Not satisfied I pitch the truck into reverse, peeling back over the remains. I continue on this way, back and forth, forward and backward, until bits and pieces litter the snow and the smell of burning rubber settles on my nostrils.
Heaving big deep breaths, I survey what I’ve done, and not guilt, but elation washes over me like a song.

We are free.I am finally free.