Work Text:
Turbo sat in the middle of the race track, so close to the finish line. He sat there and waited. He couldn’t feel the speed anymore, he was back to being a normal garden snail, and Guy was only a little bit behind him, with his wrecked car.
His brother was on his way, trying to reach Turbo to give him an inspiring message, but wasn’t fast enough, as he was always just a slow snail. Guy struggled to get his cart started, but as he realized it wouldn’t, he’d go to more desperate measures to ensure victory and yet another cup. So he got up, out of his cart, and aggressively stomped over to Turbo.
“I will not lose to a *snail*” Guy grits his teeth, and kicks the snail.
We cut to a hospital bed, a one for normal humans, as Turbo sat in the middle with a mostly broken shell, and shut eyes. His snail brother, and fellow reckless racer snails are gathered on the bed with somber expressions, as the humans who got Turbo into this mess in the first place stood next to the bed, sad that their dreams were shattered. There was nothing the doctors could do- of course not, Turbo was only just a snail, and this world was yet to make medicine for snails. A doctor enters the room, and delivers the bad news. The human group leaves, and so do the reckless racer snails.
All that is left in the room is Turbo and his brother.
“I told you not to get involved in this… why didn’t you listen…” Turbo’s brother turned around to leave. (which took like 20 minutes just for him to get to the door)
Turbo lied alone in his bed for the longest time, until he got another visitor. There comes in Guy, the man who put Turbo in this situation in the first place. Instead of regret, and remorse, this whole situation was wonderful for him and his image, beating a supernaturally fast snail in the indie 500, in front of thousands. Guy was doing great. Turbo, on the other hand, obviously wasn't.
“I warned you little snail. You just… got in my way.” Guy took something out of his pocket- a packet of salt.
“Just remember, this is your own fault.” Guy grinned, as he emptied the salt packet, onto the already dying snail.
Turbo didn’t get a funeral. No burial. Nothing. He was only a snail, after all, what could they do? Nothing. There are no funerals for snails. Only death. Thats what you fucking deserve Turbo your movie sucked your tv show sucked this is what you get for being such a bad series fuck you