When you trash your first kite within 20 minutes after having pumped it up, to then get the biggest wipe out you can remember (the kind that seems to happen in slow motion and makes you wake up the morning after with the strange feeling you've gone under a steam roller) with the second one you took out.
Meaning the second kite is.... Hm... how to say that accurately?... Shredded?
You know, when you look at it and you feel like asking it : "hey mate, does it hurt a lot?". (Yes, I speak to my kite, so what!?)
All together, this brings us to the very admirable count of 2 kites in 2 hours...
And to add to the thrill, as you finally manage, after what seems to be an eternity, to get out of the giant washing machine, you find a half eaten shark on the shore...

I had never trashed a kite before... Let alone 2 in a row...
It's a pretty dreadful sensation to be able to feel it tearing just from the safety line (and fill up with water, and dragging you along like a bloody submarine), and well, even though it happens to the best of us... I'm feeling like some sort of murderer...
Oh dear... I've killed my kite... No wait... It's actually a lot worse than this.... I've killed 2... Oops...

Can somebody come up with a worse story than mine about destroying a maximum of things in a minimum of time, so I can think: "oh, well, whatever. After all, it's really not that bad..."?