I opened my eyes, but the eye-lids were still glued from sleep.
Geezer: Oh, you’re finally awake. I thought of leaving, but THIS guy was, is and will be insistent. He’s from Red Bull and he has an offer you can’t refuse.
Rosso: Hello, Sir. How are you?
Titas: Oh, I’m fine, thank you. How about you? Why are you here in my dingy hospital room?
Rosso: I want you to race for my team. We are all good people here…
Titas: And who thinks they’re all bad people here, there or anywhere, Comrade?
Rosso: I know, I know. But we ARE. You’re sixteen now, and I always had an eye on you, Sir. Race for me in F1 Junior Division. Let’s make History, while the Present is NOW.
Titas: I have one condition, though. I want to be aggressive to the MAX: Maximum Power, Maximum Effort, Maximum Result. You agree to this, and I’m your Freelancer.
Rosso: Deal, Sir.
Geezer: Finally!

Wulfy was the prettiest woman in existence, especially while pouring that orange juice into a plastic cup.
Titas: Do you have some Spirit with it?
Wulfy: HA! Stop being so sexy or I’ll slap your ass.
Titas: You can slap my ass anytime you want, my darling.
Wulfy: Maybe that’s what I’ll do… Anyway, tomorrow you’re getting out. What are your plans for the future?
Titas: Race for Torro, be the Best, no Compromises, you know, the usual. And you, my darling?
Wulfy: THAT can WAIT. I’m starring in a play in a couple of days. “Romeo and Juliet”, it is. Have you heard of it?
Titas: No, can’t say that I have. They die at the end, though, right?
Wulfy: Exactly. It’s an EPIC double suicide. You can’t miss it, OK?
Titas: No way in hell. Should I suit up for the occasion, my darling?
Wulfy: Yes, definitely. The red suit I picked out for you should do.
Titas: A red suit for a red bull… Now come here and let me caress your hair.
Wulfy: Only if you say “please”.
Titas: Pretty please, my darling.
Wulfy: Hihi.

CrimsonBro: Who’s the new guy?
Torro: They call him Titas.
CrimsonBro: Is he any good?
Torro: The best the new generation has for us.
CrimsonBro: We’ll see.
Torro: How about a bet?
CrimsonBro: THAT good?
Torro: Yes, definitely.
CrimsonBro: No bets, then. Let’s see what he’s made of.
Torro: “This is Torro, Titas. Can you hear me? Over.”
Titas: “This is Titas. Sir, yes, sir. What’s up? Over.”
Torro: “This is Torro. Qualifying lap. No practice. Do the usual. Over.”
Titas: “This is Titas. Got it. Over.”
CrimsonBro: He’s going in without practice?
Torro: Indeed, he is.
CrimsonBro: Should be a spectacle.
Torro: You have no clue.

Titas: I loved the Bahrain track.
Wulfy: Yes, it’s said to be the safest in the world.
Titas: Your play was better, though.
Wulfy: Of course. But I did not expect to hear that from you. You’re crazy about racing.
Titas: I’m also crazy about you.
Wulfy: Yes. Yes, you are. So. Your win – how does it feel?
Titas: Nothing special. I always had it in me. Not just racing. Everything I did, do and will do… I excel at it.
Wulfy: You’re right, yet again. And the money – where will you spend it?
Titas: I already did. Red Cross.
Wulfy: Oh, all of it?
Titas: Yep, all of it.
Wulfy: You never really did it for the money, though, did you?
Titas: No, I don’t think so.
Wulfy: You’re sooo HOT. Come, kiss me.
Titas: I’m obliged.
Wulfy: Hihi.

CrimsonBro: Thiz guy, man. Hic. He lapped the second guy five times. Hic. Finally, Red Bull has a driver, that can handle all the power of the car. Hic. I’m gonna rest for a bit. Hic. Just… close my eyes… for a bit… hic.
Rosso: Yep, he passed out.
Geezer: Yep, he did.
Rosso: Where’s Titas?
Geezer: He’s on a mission. Killing stuff up. He’ll be here in… wait, let me check… yep, in three, two, one… now.
Titas: Zup, guys. Just stylishly late, as usual. Oh, man, Crimson looks wasted…
Rosso: Yep, he passed out halfway through a dozen bottles of vodka.
Geezer: How was it?
Titas: Yeah, so, I killed them. How else?
Rosso: Killed who?
Geezer: Not important. Titas, sit, have a drink, you’re behind by a LOT.
Titas: A hundred bottles of vodka, milk and don’t spare the honey, madams.
Rosso: Now we’re talking!
Geezer: I’m calling Daddy, he shouldn’t miss this.
Titas: I already invited him. He was all red from blood, so he went to a spa.
Geezer: Well, he better hurry the damn up. You’re gonna drink everything here.
Titas: Let’s put some of it aside, then.
Rosso: Guys, don’t mind me interrupting, but I have this urgent need to vomit… Let me through to the lavatory…
Geezer: Man, don’t spill any on me, it’s my “Cocktail-with-Titas” dress.
Titas: If a man has to go, a man has to go.
Rosso: Ugh… Be back in a minute...
Geezer: Take your time, man.
Titas: I forgot.
Geezer: What?
Titas: I don’t know. That’s why I forgot.
Geezer: What is it?
Titas: Listen, gramps, I forgot, how the hell should I remember, what I forgot?
Geezer: You’re right. Let’s drink.
Titas: Oh, damn, that’s what I forgot: I came here for a drink, and I’m full five minutes in a bar without any.
Geezer: Let me mix you some, then.
Titas: My man.

I was back in Lithuania, Šiauliai, before my Autralian GP. I needed to recuperate and prepare. What better way to do it, if not an unofficial karting race on the local aerodrome?
Titas: OK, sirs. Who is the best driver, that ever lived?
Children (In unison): We are, sir!
Titas: Who is the bravest cornering specialist, that ever lived?
Children: We are, sir!
Titas: Who lives, breathes, eats and defecates SPEED, every moment, that he lives?
Children: We do, sir!
Titas: Who makes love to the car, while doing over 300 km per hour?
Children: We do, sir!
Titas: Who likes to sit in the car, live in it, eat in it, read in it and not give a damn about anything else, sirs?
Children: We do, sir!
Titas: Questions, sirs?
Children: No questions, sir!
Titas: You’re ready to get high on SPEED, then! Everyone, to their karts! On the double!
Children: Sir, yes, sir!

Prologue

This is a Story. A Story about my life as a Formula One Race Car Pilot. It is for anyone, who ever dreamt as a child about being one. It is for someone, who excells at it, but wants to go over-revved. It is for no one, who didn’t want to endure Speed, Cold, Heat, Rain, Autumn or Winter. It is for YOU, my dear reader. The Best Story Ever Told. For the Child in you, who wants to go faster than Sonic, Bolt and Schumi combined. Enjoy it. Savour it. BE IT. Race Start in 3… 2… 1… Go, go, go!

F1 2010 Killer Dove Edition. Chapter One: Qualifying

The day was set. Set in stone. A stone so hard, it was raining with snow.
My Geezer always said, “be better than everyone at extreme conditions, so that you could be better than everyone at peak settings”. I always listened intensely to my Gramps. He was the best Demolition Derby expert on the market. When He drove, he was like God-Zeus on the track. And you don’t want to be a God’s Enemy. Unless, of course, you’re as crazy as me.
The greatest thing a disciple can do to himself is to not out-shine the Master. The greatest thing a disciple can do to his Master is to out-shine the Master.
The day was set. And it was a Helishly Winter here at Oklahoma. My Geezer put me in a stock-car, fastened the belts, and said: “Be Last. Survive.” What could a youngster like me at the age of eleven do? So, I said, calmly: “I’ll be first. I’ll devour them all.”

After my Gramps extinguished the burning motor of my stock-car, He said: “You’re insane, Titas, my sonny boya. You crashed them all, and your car is the most totalled one. How you pulled it off, is beyond my comprehension. You’re ready for Nascar, now. I’ll register you up for twenty-oh-one race. Show them, how it’s done.”
That night, we, me and my Geezer, drank like donkeys. We did ecstasy, mescal, heroin, cocaine, and, of course, adrenochrome. It was, literally, Fear and Loathing in Oklahoma. I don’t remember much, but it was EPIC.
My Gramps said: “One day you’ll create a video-game about your journey from a Wreckfester to a Formula One Pilot. THAT will be EPIC. For now, grow, be strong, be perseverant; be, who you want to be; do, what you want to do; act, how you want to act. Who gives a damn about anything, which isn’t you. You are, what you think you are. No other way.”
And I said, calmly, again: “You’re right, as always, my Sifu, my Sensei, my Teacher. BUT. What should I do before I embark onto the journey, which is Formula One. WHAT?”
My Gramps said: “Compete in everything. THAT’S what!”
And I said, calmly, again: “Okay”.

Steven The Engineer: “Okay, Titas, stop rapping to metal and listen!”
Titas: “Yeah, okay, what is it?”
Steven The Engineer: “You’re over-taking everyone for the fourth lap! I can’t believe I’m saying it, but this is Nascar, not Demolition Derby! You need to SLOW. THE EFF. DAMN!”
Titas: “Yeah, so, last lap?”
Steven The Engineer: “Yes! Be careful on your way to the pits! You’re craaazyyy!”
Titas: “Yeah, got it!”

It was quiet on the streets of Paris that night. And as the saying went, “if it’s your first night in Midnight Club, you HAVE to race.”
So.
I raced.
For that race, I went with Nissan Skyline, which I borrowed from one of my best friends, whose name was Jeff. I just called him “Jeffy”. We were so close friends, that, after my win, He gave me his car.
I wanted to test myself that night. So. I borrowed a car from this chick with pink pig-tails. Yeah. That sounds good: let’s call her Pink Pig-Tails.
I won.
Again.
She gave me her car, as well. As a return, she asked to pretty her up for her Man.
I went to a women’s clothing store: bought her a miniskirt, stockings, a loose blouse and, of course, some epic lingerie. All pink, of course.
Then.
I went home.
Street races were too easy, I thought.
Until I raced my Daddy. Not Geezer. Daddy.
Let’s talk about him some.
Let’s.

Daddy: “I know your problem, Lad. You want to grow up faster. That it?”
Titas: “That it, yeah. Listen, race me on the streets of Hollywood. If YOU win, I’ll owe you one. If I win, though, you talk with these Formula One degenerates about the rules. You write them a petition. I’m twelve, now, and I want to race. Why not? Buy me the ticket, and I’ll take the ride. Charlie Tango Tango?”
Daddy: “You’re craaazyyy. But. You’re ON!”
Titas: “Good. Be ready to cry yourself to sleep, after this one!”
Daddy: “Make me, till you break me!”
Titas: “I’ll make you some omlet afterwards, though. Gonna have to break some eggs, first.”
Daddy: “Not the first time for everything!”
Titas: “HA!”

They called me Rookie, there. I just told them to call me Noob.
I was the Noob at everything.
Until I mastered it.
Then I was THE Supreme Noob.
“Deploy the Choppa!” I ordered, over the radio.
“The Helly is on its way, Noob,” a woman’s voice echoed.
“And when I get back, make sure the baloney sandwich is waiting for me warm and fresh!” I humored. “Anyway, how many bandits left?”
“Only one, Noob,” the woman’s voice echoed again.
“Roger. Is he the fastest here?”
“He’s the fastest, Noob. Gnab him!”
I drove the cop-like black-and-white-striped Lamborghini out of the cave’s entrance.
Then I deployed the spike-strip.
“Spike-strip in place. Waiting.” I puffed out.
“He’s listening to this frequency, Noob.”
“THAT I know, thank you. He SHOULD be ready for me. And very, VERY afraid!”
“He stopped, Noob. I think, he surrendered. I repeat: the last bandit surrendered.”
“Roger. Getting back to the HQ for that sandwich.”
“Roger, Noob. Can I call you SIR, now, kindly?”
“Of course, not. You can call me THE Supreme Noob, now.”
“Roger, Supreme Noob. THE Supreme Noob. Your sandwich is waiting.”
“Bon appetit!”

Opperrattorr01: “Listen, kid. It’s your first GT1 race with this Lambo car. Thing. Just finish the race in one piece.”
Titas: “How many pieces should I leave on track, though?”
Opperrattorr01: “Listen. Man. LISTEN to ME. You don’t NEED to win. It’s your FIRST race. Just FINISH.”
Titas: “Roger. Be first, at any cost necessary. You’re gonna be there on the podium with me with that Champagne bottle.”
Opperrattorr01: “THAT’S why you’re here, Sir. Noob, Sir. Supreme Noob, Sir.”
Titas: “Think of something crazy to say at the press conference, comrade. You always remember your first.”
Opperrattorr01: “Man. Yeah, okay, comrade. I’ll think of something. Thank you, Sir.”
Titas: “Thank me later. You sound like you already know I’m gonna win.”
Opperrattorr01: “When you drive as fast as you, you know it.”
Titas: “Roger. This Lambo is a Monster. Thank you, ARAS.”
Opperrattorr01: “ARAS? The anti-terrorist group? You’re ARAS?!”
Titas: “Small talk later. I’m gonna win this thing. YOU’RE gonna win this thing.”
Opperrattorr01: “The balls on this guy!”

Commentator: “It’s a nice day for speed today, fine gentlemen! The spotlight is on Titas today – the New Guy from Lithuania. It’s his first race in LMP1 class, and we wish him luck!”
Titas: “Titas here, to Race Control. I’m going to crash on the first lap. I’m protesting against Formula One, here. Tell the camera units to concentrate on me. This track is made for me. It’s made for Destruction. Over.”

After my crash, I spend four years in rehabilitation. The upper-class degenerates finally let me to race, but I chose to try myself out with newbies at the Junior Level. The next chapters are about my career as a pro. Don’t miss it! Be present! Over and out, my Champions!

Gyvenime reikia meilės. Ar monstriukas mokėjo mylėti, jis nežinojo.
Kartą monstriukas užsidėjo savo smailius violetinius batelius, juodą apiplyšusį švarką, raudonas odines kelnes, ir žalią smailią kepurę, ir paliko savo urvą miške, patraukdamas į Karalystės miestą.
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Dievas
Sergančios fantazijos kūrinys.
Senatvinių ir impotentinių smegenų vėžys.
Sutrikusių dvasių, gimusių vergijoje, palydovas ir guodėjas.
Tabletė nuo fekalijų užkietėjusiam protui.
Marksizmas silpnaširdžiams.

Žmoniškumas
Abstraktus žodis, turintis neigiamą konotaciją,
Prisigėręs galios, nematantis tiesos.
Nepadori kaukė, nupiešta ant niekšiško apsukraus
Vulgaro veido, siekiant dominuoti minioje
Sentimentalistinių
Idiotų ir
Imbecilų.

Šalis
Baudžiava pseudo-inteligentams, beviltiškumo karvidė.
Kirkė, kuri savo dievinamus gerbėjus paverčia šunimis ir
Kiaulėmis.
Pono prostitutė, užsieniečio sutenerė.
Vaikų kanibalė, tėvų šmeižikė ir besityčiojanti iš savo pačios
Herojų.

Socializmas
Disciplina, disciplina;
Paklusnumas, paklusnumas;
Vergija ir neišmanymas,
Kupini valdžios.
Buržuazinis kūnas,
Groteskiškai nupenėtas vulgarios
Krikščioniškos būtybės.
Fetišizmo, sektantizmo ir bailumo
Mišinys.

Organizacijos, įstatymų leidžiamosios institucijos ir sąjungos
Bažnyčios bejėgiams.
Lombardai šykštiems ir silpniems.
Daugelis prisijungia, kad parazituotų
Gyvendami iš savo tipiškų kolegų,
Nešiojančių korteles,
Nugarų.
Kai kurie prisijungia ir tampa šnipais.
Kiti,
Patys nuoširdžiausi,
Prisijungia ir atsiduria kalėjime,
Iš kur gali stebėti visų kitų
Piktaširdiškumą.

Solidarumas
Makabriškas altorius,
Kurį naudoja visų rūšių talentingi komikai,
Norėdami parodyti savo kunigišką talentą
Deklamuoti mišias.
Naudos gavėjai moka ne mažiau kaip 100%
Pažeminimo.

Draugystė
Laimingi tie,
Kurie išgėrė iš jos taurės neįžeisdami ar neapsinuodiję
Sielos.
Jeigu yra vienas toks asmuo,
Raginu atsiųsti man jo nuotrauką.
Aš tikrai pažvelgsiu į veidą
Idioto.

Meilė
Kūno apgaulė ir
Žala dvasiai.
Sielos liga,
Smegenų atrofija,
Širdies susilpnėjimas,
Jausmų sugadinimas,
Poetinis melas,
Nuo kurio du ar tris kartus per dieną žiauriai apsvaigstama,
Norint greičiau
Suvalgyti šį brangų,
Bet kvailą
Gyvenimą. Ir vis dėlto
Norėčiau mirti iš
Meilės. Tai vienintelis aferistas po Judo,
Kuris gali nužudyti
Bučiniu.

Vyras
Nešvari vergystės,
Tironijos, fetišizmo,
Baimės, tuštybės ir
Nežinojimo pasta.
Didžiausias nusikaltimas,
Kurį galima padaryti prieš asilą,
Yra pavadinti jį
Žmogumi.

Moteris
Žiauriausias iš pavergtųjų
Žvėrių.
Didžiausia auka, besibastanti
Žemės planetoje.
Ir, po vyro,
Labiausiai atsakinga už savo
Problemas.
Man būtų smalsu sužinoti,
Kas vyksta jos galvoje,
Kai ją
Bučiuoju.

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