He gets closer and you can see the numbers on his clothes. Who knows what he was in jail for and who knows how he got out. Either way you hope he can help you. You can see his bare feet slide through the grass. You wave at him and he waves back. Doesn't seem so bad you think. At about 20 feet away you notice that the tattoo covering his face isn't a skull or a swastika, but actually the characters from the cartoon Dexter's Laboratory.
"Stranded buddy?" He says in a friendly tone
"Well, I can't help ya, but I can keep you company for a little while."
The two of you talk for over an hour, he only wants to discuss cartoons. You try to show off your Naruto t-shirt but he doesn't stop talking about Samurai Jack. Eventually, you mention how you really like anime, but he interrupts you.
"Wait, you actually like that shit? I thought you were just kidd'n or somethin. Ugh."
He then pulls out a switchblade and cuts off your head. Well, you aren't sure if he actually cut off your head because you were dead before he had time to finish.
GAME OVER. LOOK WHAT YOUR OL' ANIME SHIRT DID TO YOU!
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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