The crash

The sound of the crash echoing off the concrete and boarded up windows could be heard for blocks.  The smoke wafting away from the debris of what used to be a hatchback sedan shrouded the scene of devastation as if waiting for a magician's sleight of hand to uncover something out of nothing.

Where there previously towered a half-demolished wall of a derelict convenience store, now stood a grotesque surrealistic sculpture - mangled remains of the hatchback in the protective embrace of the crumbling bricks and rebars.

"Whoa," someone exclaimed, as the echoes of the crash and the settling rubble gave way to the normal sounds of a street, "did you see that?"

"Hey, someone call 911!"

"Can we get closer?  Is it safe?"

"Do you think the driver...?"

"What the fuck happened?"

The commotion was reaching fever pitch, it'll be time to go soon.  Fingering the small black remote nestling in my pocket, I listened to the questions swirling around and answered each silently in my head...

Yep, saw that.  

Hardly any rush to call 911 now, but if you must...

You can get closer but that wall isn't looking too good.  And touching the car or any of the rubble is definitely a bad idea.

Yes, pretty sure Max is dead; although pulverized would be more accurate.

That's easy - the car sped up going down the street, lost its breaks and steering and was directed straight into the wall.  Splat.

Isn't it amazing what can be done with technology and a bit of determination these days?  And Max said I could never finish anything...