52.

I crash into your normal stereotypical green hedge. The rectangle bush you always think of when you hear the word "hedge". I'm greeted with plenty of "What the fuck(s)!" as I emerge from my green tomb. The hedge does a pretty mediocre job of breaking my fall. I feel fresh scratches and cuts all over my arms and legs. Saves me the trouble of doing it to myself later I guess. The drunk confused children stare unblinking at me. Their eyes wide and blank, like tiny terrible portals into their wasted adolescence. I'm glad I broke them away from their tweets and status updates. I smile and limp off into the night. I stumble a few blocks and plop down on the sidewalk to rest a moment and I'm gone. I close my eyes just for a second and I'm time traveling away from myself. I wake up in the future and I'm throwing empty beer bottles at a church. I know I'm going to hell. An Ave. Rat is holding a pit bull on a leash on the adjacent cross street. He's laughing and cheering me on. I hear screaming and bull whips cracking. I dedicate my next few bottles to my number one fan. I let loose the first pitch and chuck away. I throw them fast and hard and finish a perfect game. The stadium roars with love and approval. Poseidon heralds my victory with thunderous applause. The Greek gods just don't get the respect they deserve nowadays. I bow and stumble off into the dark, not quite sure where I'm going.