The man approaches the car. The doors locked. You glance up and see him staring at you. You wave your hand in a friendly manner before looking back down. Maybe he will leave me alone. You look up again.
He is right outside your window, motioning you to roll down your window.
You look at him and contemplate whether to obey. On his arm you see a tattoo of a dragon flying through a skull. You look down and see the exact image on your t-shirt. Holy shit, he'll love this you think as you start rolling down your window.
Once the window is down you try and tell him the coincidence, but you're interrupted by him stabbing you in the face.
"Oh, fuck'n awesome shirt." He says as he peels it off your dead body.
GAME OVER. YOU DIED AND LOST YOUR FAVORITE SHIRT
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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