“Wonderful.” He stated with a sarcastic slur to his sleep-deprived voice. Finally clambering into an assortment of sweat-stained rags that managed to pass themselves off as a T-shirt and jeans, the young man slid on some travel-worn shoes and strode out of his apartment, keys in hand and locking the doors behind him.
He took a deep breath of the air. Garlic, onions and turmeric. Must be around noon, he thought to himself. Stepping into the gravel-choked parking lot behind his building, Benjamin sidled up to his apple-red ’95 Civic two-door with the cracked bumper and folded himself in. With a coughing chug, he started the car and drove out to his favourite vegan resturaunt, only a few blocks away (one of the major selling points for his apartment, plus the rent was under $800 a month, utilities included, which was an absolute steal).
Some days, the hipster couldn’t believe he lived like this. But some days, he was very glad he did. It gave him a unique perspective on life, and broadened his mind to new experiences. When you live in Hell, you aren’t surprised when you see a demon or two.
It was this broadened and open mind that kept him from being surprised when a large equine animal with a pure white coat and a single white horn suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, right in front of his car. Not that he was expecting it—however, when one is careening down the road at 80 km/h, you don’t really stop to consider what something is in front of you, and you focus more on how you can keep your car from smashing into it, especially when your insurance is already high from the accident you had two years ago on your way from work to a Blink 182 concert.
Just the same, Benjamin was certainly startled by the magical being’s sudden appearance, and he didn’t have much space to maneuver around it. Thus, his tiny little two-door econocar rattled into the creature.
Rainbow coloured blood splattered onto the windshield and mixed with the creature’s luminescent white fur, spelling panic for poor Benjamin as he leapt out of his car to inspect the scene.
“Oh hell!” He exclaimed as he paced around. Thinking quickly, he called the police to report the accident on his Blackberry (he has a very complex schedule, and he gets bored at work easily.)
“Hi, I’d like to report a major vehicle accident!” He shouted.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Yes, I think I hit a unicorn!”
There was silence on the other line. It still hadn’t struck Benjamin that what he said was completely ridiculous and absolutely impossible. His broadened mind was simply to broad to even consider that someone might just think he’s crazy if he did something silly like report hitting a unicorn to a 911 operator.
“Sir, is this a joke?” Came the dubious reply from the over-worked young woman on the other line.
“No, I’m very serious! There’s blood all over my windshield! I have witnesses and everything, I’m on a major thoroughfare and I just hit a unicorn!”
It was true, by now at least three groups of children had managed to find sticks (as they always do in this situation) and were poking the rainbow mess of a corpse that had collapsed the front half of Benjamin’s red Civic, which was now a red-dominated rainbow scrap-heap.
“Sir, you realize it’s a criminal offense to waste the government’s—“
“Yes, I realize! I’m sure someone else must have called about this by now!”
“Sir, please hold on a moment.” She went silent for a few minutes, and then returned. “…Very well, it seems we have received several other calls from your location, and I suppose we do have to at least dispatch an officer to check out the scene.”
“Thank you very much!” Without even thinking about proper protocol, Benjamin hung up the phone and inspected the wreck that was his car.
Sirens blazed in the distance, and a police car arrived on site. The poor police woman just about crapped her pants with laughter when she saw the scene, the shock of the absolute insanity of what she was looking at was simply too much for her system to take in all at once.
“Well, crap, son, you hit a unicorn.”