Hall of Infinite Doors

You throw the kid on the ground like he meant nothing to you, and get into your van. You kick your engine into gear and fly out of the park, driving through a few yellow lights in the knick of time. You can see the father checking to make sure his son is okay in your rear-view mirror. You have lost your prize, the one thing more precious than gold. You lost your ability to bring a child to your house tonight. You lose.