There was once a little boy who owned a blue bike.
He was always riding it, that bike.
He rode it everywhere - church, school, and just for rides goin' nowhere.
The blue bike was his friend, his faithful companion.
It took him where he needed to go and it never let him down.
The tires on the bike squeaked a bit when they turned, but the boy
loved it.
He loved that sound.
The sound of the tires turning beneath him.
One day, the little boy came across a road.
The little boy didn't quite look before he pushed the blue bike
onward.
(BANG! SMASH! CRASH!)
Oh those horrible sounds.
Those people screamin'.
(Oh! God! Did you see that!? That truck just ... oh god. OH GOD!)
That grievin' mother, blaming God for what He took from her.
(My poor baby! Why!? WHY DO THIS TO ME!? Why, God!? WHY!?)
And the blue bike lies twisted in the road-
its wheels turning.
Still squeaking.