I pedaled faster and harder on the highway, blocking out the honks of the impatient drivers behind me. They threw crumpled up pieces of paper at my beloved tricycle. "Hey, duck, get outta the road!" Glaring over my shoulder at them, I stuck out my tongue at them. "Nyah! Nyah! I'm taking my time and there's nothing you can do about it!" A car door swung open slowly and I could hear the rock music blaring inside. A large boot smacked into the pavement. I gulped as a enormous man stepped out of the tiny station wagon and stomped toward me. I could almost swear the earth was shaking under my feet. The man glowered down at me and grabbed me by the throat. "I didn't hear you right, duck. What did you say?" "I am your faithful and humble carpet," I whispered hoarsely. I think he grinned, but it was hard to tell. "That's what I thought." He walked back to his car and got inside, revving the engine. "It's times like these that make me wish I was Arnold Schwartzenagger," I grumbled and crossed my arms. I pedaled my precious trike, but before I could get far, building-size tires ran over my and my vehicle, flattening the both of us. My paper-thin body clung to the tire and I rolled down the highway, muttering 'ow ow ow' the whole entire ridiculously long trip. "My back. my shoulder. my feet." I moaned. "My head. oooh, that felt strangely good. Ow ow, no, I was wrong. Head. beak. solar plexus. oooh, big word. Gotta remember that. ow. ow. ow. ow."