You fly past the rabbit on your trusty rooster, laughing as the gremlin on top eats your dust. You saw the Waldgeist veer off the track a while back, that walking tree looks terrifying. But the finish line is in sight, and you get a weird feeling like there's something you forgot. How many racers were there? You hear a slight whooshing sound, like something large is getting closer, you turn in time to see the barrel strike you, knocking you into a puddle then off the track. The pig squeals as it rushes pash, and you swear it's smiling but you can't be sure, and then the mud swallows your vision as you land facefirst into it, quickly followed your rooster and then your dreams of glory. Next time Bayou Bash. Next time.