Winner of Mental Shrillness, guess the ending contest.

Congrats to Ketch1714 for her awesome guess! You've won a ecopy of Mental Shrillness. I will forward your email address to the author, Todd Russell. Check out her ending to the story: 

"JUMP, DARN IT!" Jake called.
"YOU JUMP!" Ricky replied, giving him a wink.
Jake glanced at the cliff as a knot formed in his throat.
25 feet...
Live to be a winner, or died in the process?
5 feet...
Jake finally let the wheel go, threw the door open, and jumped. He hit the ground rolled and fell over the edge, just catching the ledge. The car flew through the air, fliping onto it's back as it landed on the rocks below. A fire ball shot into the air.
Seconds later, Ricky's car flew over edge just inches from Jake.
"RICKY!" he cried.
A second explosion answered his call.

Here is the original story from May 5th with the ending now added: 

 Ricky and Jake, twin brothers, battled for Dad's attention until graduation night at Peadman's Cliff when they decided to settle it.
     The crowd had gathered from school, alcohol carelessly involved, the torches flaming against the ebony chill. Wendy Simmons stood between the two beater cars, raised a makeshift checkered flag, her sweet fragrance kissing the air.
     Jake raised a thumb to his brother. Ricky showed him his middle finger instead.
     The checkered flag dropped and they both slammed on their respective accelerators. Dirt and gravel spit from tires and the crowd raged, pumping the torches.
     Jake stared at his brother and saw Dad. Jake was the son who never won at anything. Dad loved winners and Ricky fulfilled those desires better and more often than he. Ricky won his first fight when the bully, Billy Watkins, wanted his lunch money. Jake got beat up by Billy three times before finally returning the favor.
     The cars bobbed for position. The cliff a football field's distance away and closing. Ricky smiled with his perfect teeth. Jake returned his crooked grin..
     Ricky was Dad's jock. He could do it all: football, track, baseball, soccer, name it. Jake could do it all too, just not nearly as well. Ricky's wall overflowed with ornate plaques and ocean-colored ribbons and impressive trophies. Jake's wall smelled of honorable mentions.
     Closer to the cliff edge. Night breathed through the inch slit in Jake's window. Jake looked at Ricky's clenched hands on the steering wheel, his determined eyes.
     Dad's eyes. He had Dad's eyes too, but Dad always remarked how the girls loved Ricky's eyes. I HAVE HIS EYES TOO, DAD! Jake complained but it was always after the crowd had gone home. Ricky owned the stage, Jake the backstage pass. Just a roadie in the concert of their disproportionate lives.
     Ricky smiled at Jake with those damned straight teeth! He raised his middle finger to his brother. HE wasn't jumping out, not Ricky The Stud Johnson. No way. He'd go to the edge. Maybe over the edge. No chickening out with his big breasted girlfriend, Wendy Simmons watching.
     Wendy, oh Wendy, Jake's thoughts burned his brain. Wendy was the first girl Jake had loved. Still loved. Why wouldn't she look at him? Why Ricky. Why did Ricky always win all the time? Dad loved winners. "The winners circle, sons. Strive for that winner's circle."
     The edge one hundred feet away. The jagged rocks four hundred feet below mocking the brothers.
     Jake turned, screaming, "JUMP! JUMP!"
     80 feet....closing...quicker, quicker.
Ricky turned, both middle fingers at his brother. "YOU JUMP! NOW! DAD LOVES WINNERS!"
     Jake thought about being swallowed by the rocks and about the time they buried Grandpa and Dad crying. Dad never cried. Jake went frantically for the door handle, pulling it.
     The door latch caught.
     "JUMP! JAKE YOU JUMP NOWWWW!" Ricky's wild eyes. His grin rippling across his face.
     The door finally opened and Jake jumped, hitting the sand and gravel and peeling his skin like a banana. Warm blood oozed from raw, opened wounds.
     Jake heard the sounds of the cars roaring over the edge, hanging in the air and then plummeting to the mechanical ripping and mangling of metal being chewed by rocky teeth. He brushed the dirt from his bleeding face and looked for Ricky. He expected to see anything but the wind lifting the dirt and blowing it across the night. The crowd started screaming.
     An hour later, and they had to use a metal saw on Ricky's door. It seems someone had welded it shut.

Thank you to everyone who entered this contest and also to Todd Russell for sharing this great story with us.


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