I was just sitting on the porch and some old dude drove past me in a black Smart Car. And when I say “old,” I mean that he looks like he escaped from a nursing home. I mean that he is the precise image I get in my head when I try to picture Death.
The only thing missing was the hood.
And as he drove past, I began to wonder, “Is this what Death drives while en route to claim the next person on his You Is Now Deceased list?
Is his scyth in the trunk? Does a scyth even fit in a Smart Car?
I shuddered a little. Perhaps because it’s about to rain.
But now I kind of want to find a Smart Car and try to jam a scyth in the trunk.
While Henry is bound and gagged in a tight ball like Jeffrey Dahmer’s sex toy.
And now I’m imagining Death skipping Henry – still bound and gagged – like a stone and playing hopscotch.
And now I’m imagining that this is only post #17. OH WAIT, THAT’S REAL. FUCK ME.
Where is my fucking food? Lucky Charms and sweet potato chips are not enough to keep my fingers tapping.