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Thursday, June 20, 2002
This is an exerpt from a story I started writing yesterday:The car had turned nearly nighty degrees. It was at rest perpendicular to the road, the front end in the left lane. Marv had banged his head against the passenger door window. He felt his head and found the right side, just above his temple, to be very tender. He pulled his hand back to look at his palm. There didn’t appear to be any blood. He looked to his left. Ted was staring wide-eyed in front of him, breathing short, nervous breaths. Both of his hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. His foot was still pressing the brake to the floor. Marv looked to his right. Through the cracks his own head had put in the passenger-side window he could see the body. It lay face down over the two yellow median lines, not moving.
“What the hell was that?” asked Ted between breaths.
Almost in a daze, Marv responded, “It was a guy, he’s over there.”
“I know it was a guy!” yelled Ted.
“We hit a guy.” Marv repeated.
“I know we hit a fucking guy! But what the fuck was he doing there?”
| Mr. McBastard | 12:55 AM | | |
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