I was driving down Holiday Drive. It was kind of bendy. I was enjoying the freedom of owning a new vehicle. When I was a girl I dreamed of owning an orange or peach-toned Corvette, and driving it down Holiday Drive. This was a blue Ford.

The wind was blowing through my hair. I had my window rolled down. The wind was tossing my hair. I almost laughed carelessly.

I hit someone.

“Hello? 911? I just killed somebody.”

“I am quite alive.”

“I’m basically a murderer.”

“A sprain, just a sprain.”

“A killer.

“Although my intestines do appear to be emerging.”

“I am a worthless, murderer.

“They have definitely emerged. They have made their debut.”

“I am a terrible person. People might even say that. Do people sometimes even go so far as that?”

“A bit small, for a gall bladder. I am disappointed.”

“If I kill any more people, now, I’ll be labelled a serial killer.”

“The rectum!”

“Is this what happens to freedom? Am I getting older?”

A lot of actors have died on Holiday Drive.

“These are the adrenals. It is happening en masse now. It is like a fire drill.”

“I don’t think I’ll mention this to Janice or anyone. I don’t think I will. Because … would there even really be an advantage?”

“Have you any toilet paper?”



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