Posts Tagged ‘Death Race’

Drive by RETORBOY on

Jessie clips the runner, sees him fall, stops to watch the stain spread from beneath his skull.

“They should only give 100 points for an ex,”  Dolan teases.  “Just seems too easy.”

Jessie rolls her eyes, continues on.  It’s quiet for miles, then 3 figures appear, trying to pull themselves from their wreck.  Jessie cuts hard to the right, spins out in a perfect circle.  Two go airborne; one ends up under the wheel.  Bones crunch as she backs up, barely able to hide her shudder.

“600 points enough for you, Dad?”

Dolan chuckles, unable to hide his pride.

Explosive Action by Andezigi on Deviant Art

“Navigator!  Wake the fuck up!”

“Huh? Oh.  Turn left at the Piggly Wiggly; there’s a diner two block down that makes great pie.”

Poor Ivan. He got my depressed migraine-addled ass as a navigator.  Only my sarcasm remains intact.  I feel his eyes on me; he’s incredulous.

A 1969 Mustang on steroids enters his peripheral, and he squeezes some kind of lever. I hear an explosion, but we continue, unhindered, through thick, black smoke.

“That was awesome,”  I offer, feeling a twinge of excitement.

He tries to hold back a smile.  So do I.  There’s still hope for a win.

Rockin Roll Hot Rod by Britt8m on

“Ya let that geezer get away, dipshit,” screamed Skwerl.

“Shut yer spithole,” hissed Dingo, cranking the hotrod’s wheel hard left. “Crippled old men ain’t worth the damage. We want the big score.”

“Like what?”

“Teen male. 500 points. For the win!”

“This here’s a retirement community, dipshit.”

Dingo white-knuckled the wheel. “Yer pushing it, Skwerl.”

“Where you gonna find a teen, dipshit?”

Teeth gnashing, Dingo fastened his seatbelt, then pointed ahead. “There.”


Dingo clipped a parked junker. Skwerl flew through the windshield.

Bloody and broken, Skwerl flipped over. “Why, Dingo?”

“For the win, dipshit!” shouted Dingo, rolling over his head.

The Juggernaut, Armoured Truck by Mark-MrHiDE-Patten on

Comment: The Brothers Mutante only liked to do two things: murder and driving their truck. So they put their heads together, spent a month in the garage, and welded their asses off.

Result: A monster truck covered in spikes and blades and ragged hooks with a built-in wood chipper installed on the front bumper. To the sides, drainage pipes ran the length of the truck, with strategically placed holes from which the blood would flow.

What a site to behold as it plowed through pedestrians!

An endless, torrential shower of blood, guts, blood, gore, blood, brains, blood, bone, and blood!