(no subject)
...and I can hear a click mutter through the engine a few times before it roars, clanks and generally screams at me. Yeah, yeah, yeah, its me again. Sorry.
So, I pull out the drive, force the car forward, and go. Where to? I dunno. But I'm sure I'll get there late and I'm just as sure someone will comment on it. Meeeeh, it happens, eh? But, I really should work at that.
The car starts the wheeze at me. It sounds like...An owl meets a whale meets flying Chiise. Maybe my car is a small, teenage owl-whale highschool girl.
I haven't been so tired in my life, until lately. But I can't sleep. Everytime my head lies down, something pops up. And I know what it is. My lame, itchy heart. I should be over it all, I really should. I thought I was, too, a few times...Friggin Idiot!
I hate that movie. I really do.
I pull the car to a stop as a red bit of metal controls my life. The clanking and griding of my own metal follows.
I should just shoot this damn thing.
'Sorry, Tony, but you've done seen too much. Rule one of Assassination is to kill de assassin, eh? No 'ard feelin's, eh? Business, ya know."
I'd level the gun and BANG! Right through the engine block.
I'd need a gun for that, and a new suit.
I need a hat and a hair cut. Two bits.
But, seriously, I should shoot that damn car.