Dodge was driving his Sebring 2005. He told Uber it was a 2006. That’s the only way he could live in Portland on an opera singer’s income.

He sped home to pick up his resume. He always brought them to Opera parties, cause he was “that” guy. But tonight, Dodge was jumpy. At the New Year cabaret, a very charismatic director approached him. He told Dodge he had great pitch. He’d love to work with him. It was well after midnight. Dodge didn’t drink, but he did forget his resumes that night. So back into his Sebring, he went.

Upon coming home, he stubbed his toe on the front door. Dodge bellowed the way only 12 precious years of opera training could make you bellow. He even moistened his tightie whities. After a new-underwear pit stop, and a box of headshots, he was out the door and back to the party.

Kelis was driving her Sebring 2005. She was blasting Young Thug’s new album JEFFERY on the ancient car stereo. Kelis was known in many circles as the Queen of the Nile. It’s because when she picked the beat off a phat freestyle track, she rapped better than anyone in the room. Her flow was like the Nile-Cleopatra in denial-rapping in her Chrysler Sebring-with impeccable style.

When Kelis was high, she could rhyme.

When Kelis was drunk, SHE could rhYme.

When Kelis was drunk AND high, she became eazy.

She stopped trying to rhyme. Instead, she just spoke in rhythm. She reached FLOW. Mixing the two vices just gave her a shortcut. And a horrible cough. Whatever she said, the lines flowed.

This particular New Years, she got a curious offer. There was an underground Club in Portland. Her friend Snapchatted her showing Young Thug was there. In the back room. Hosting a rap battle. Unlike Dodge, Kelis was very drunk, and quite high too. And in her Sebring 2005, she rolled to the battle.

Dodge was still jumpy. He was cruising 10 mph slower than the speed limit on Cesar Chavez Blvd.

Kelis was bumpin. She was hammering down the same street going 42 mph.

Dodge had good reflexes.

Kelis was eh.

They were approaching each other’s car.

And as they did, a black Ford Flex swam through traffic, cutting a steady 63 mph between the 2-lane road. This was never officially confirmed by either insurance company. There was some classified government order or something. It said “that black Ford Flex… that didn’t exist. It didn’t happen.”

What they didn’t know was that Saga had a black Ford Flex. It was New Years, and he was trying to prevent a murder.

As Saga drifted lanes, he swung Right to Left, banking to Kelis’ passenger side.

In her state, loud trap music blasting, she swerved. She swung her car right into Dodge’s Sebring 2005. Normally, Dodge would have swung his car out of harm’s way, but our friend Dodge was jumpy. He was about to swing the car around when he second-guessed his muscle memory. He stayed on course.

The cars crumpled in perfect unison. The identical red-wine paint chips began to ripple, crack, and snap off the bumpers.

It happened so fast. Kelis and Dodge just remembered the great “thunk”. Luckily they were both seat-belted in, for neither of them had their airbags deployed. Neither of them paid attention to the car recalls. So neither of them had proper airbag systems installed, free of charge, at their Chrysler dealership.

In the moment after the crash, Dodge began to cuss, as soon as he realized that “yes. He had just totaled his car.” An 83-second-long series of F-bombs rattled out of his throat, in many new and interesting key changes. Needless to say, he didn’t work with that director from the party.

Kelis just kept her hands on her forehead, wondering how badly she smelled like weed.

The cars were identical.

Their damage was identical.

Their frame bending was identical.

The responding officer couldn’t stress the perfection of this coincidence enough, to Dodge sitting on the sidewalk, and to Kelis in the back of his squad car.

It would be a long night for both of them.

Despite going to jail, Kelis had a much more peaceful night than Dodge.

Dodge’s Chrysler was totaled just as badly as Kelis’. A few months later, however, Dodge received a bill for $9,500… the price for both cars. In the perfection of the crash, the Progressive insurance messed up, thinking both cars were one. He would spend the next 9 months dealing with insurance nightmares. He would also spend the next 2 years dealing with the fall out from racism. Turns out, using YouTube to call a young, black girl named Kelis a “drunk f*%#-up” wasn’t a great idea.

He didn’t work with that director, but he did become famous.

His headshots were scattered about the scene of the accident. It enveloped the cars’ plumage. It also became clickbait for the Internet. Dodge was the face of ugly white privilege in America. All Thanks to Saga and Hefty.