Will Sandberg

Choco Mountain 

Last weekend, my wife and I went go-karting at a new place

that had opened down the road from us. Throughout most of

the laps, my wife led the way, while I stayed behind, watching

her. Sometimes, I would speed up, getting on her tail, and she

would brake-check me. My wife is a great driver. One time, we

drove through the mountains of Utah at night on winding roads

that curved around the mountains in darkness. Some of the

turns were so steep that we thought we were going to drive off.

Mario Kart 64 remains one of my favorite video games. When I

was a kid, my dad and I would race each other around the

64-bit courses. There's a course in the game called Choco

Mountain, a chocolate mountain with chocolate boulders

crashing onto the track. If you get hit by a boulder, it knocks

you off. When my wife was driving us through the mountains in

Utah that night, I couldn't help but imagine we were on Choco

Mountain, avoiding being knocked off into the abyss.

Secret Cow Level 

A portal opens. I step through and find myself in a

field. In the distance, I spot a group of around fifty

cows, standing upright and wielding pikes. They

moo menacingly. One of them wears a crown, as if

he's their king. But I'm not afraid. I wear bone armor

and a centaur's skull as a helmet. I hold a wand in

one hand and grasp a jar containing a severed head in

the other. I summon a clay golem from the ground to

fight by my side and use my wand to strike down

the cows, splattering blood and guts across the field.

The cows drop rare items and piles of gold coins.

I exit the portal, create a new game, and do it again.

Nova

The shop stood on Main Street, opposite the post

office. The shop bay doors were open, and we

would walk by and watch the mechanics work, the

cars high up on lifts. A Chevy Nova was parked out

front, which we assumed belonged to one of the

mechanics. My dad had told me that we would

restore a car someday. We had bought books on

how to do it, but he was always busy with work, so

we never got around to it, which was fine. I was ok

walking or riding my bike. Once, my brother and I

found an old Ford in the garage of an abandoned

house on our block. We'd heard the homeowner had

gone to prison. The key was still in the glovebox. My

brother wanted to return at night and tow it away,

but I was worried that someone might see us. He

still brings it up, saying how we should have done it.

A Real Smile

I visit the gas station for coffee and a pop-tart. Not

the healthiest choice, but whatever. The pumps are

busy with trucks fueling up. Looking down, I notice a

sharpie drawing on the concrete. A detailed smiley

face with its tongue out, the artist added strands of

hair, reminiscent of Charlie Brown. An arrow points

to the face, and below it reads, "A real smile!" Is the

artist saying we don't smile enough or that we often

fake our smiles? I don't know, but it made me smile.

Ice Cream Truck

I see an ice cream truck driving around

in December. "What's he doing out here?"

I wonder. Could the truck be a front for

something? Undercover surveillance?

Or maybe he's just trying to make a living.

People might buy ice cream in the winter.

What do I know? It's playing its song

in the middle of a snowy neighborhood.

Christmas morning, as children unwrap

their gifts, guess who rolls by? It's the ice

cream man. Parents are surprised, but the

children see nothing unusual. They ask

for fifty-cents to buy an ice cream cone.  

Will Sandberg graduated from Flagler College and lives in sunny Florida. He loves his wife, PC gaming, and watching sports.