If you read this, please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.
eds is much better than mine. but mine is TO BE CONTINUED BY EVERYONE. FOLLOW UP AND JOIN INTO OUR STORY, it can be an integral story for all devon's lj friends.
one day we were driving down to vancouver town, when you noticed the car next to us weaving wildly. inside, it was being driven by a crazed man, black hair long and flying, drool streaming out of his mouth (and out the window, streaking along the side of his car). you started freaking out, because he noticed us and started to swerve into us and
He cut you off and slammed on the breaks. The front of your car flattened against the back of his concrete SUV. He ripped the door off of its hinges, grabbed you by the throat and held you, 2 feet off the ground, gasping for enough breath to be able to thank him for killing the radio.
The grip felt like the catching half of a piece of velcro on your neck; try as you might, you couldn't wriggle free. Fuck, is this what it had all come down to? Didn't it all mean more than this?
Your feet scrabbled for purchase along the side of the vehicle, attempting to gain some sort of grounding to counteract the lack of earth beneath your feet. The hand around your neck tightened painfully, television-with-no-cable spots appearing before your eyes.
Rallying the last of your strength, you swung your fist around like a mace and smashed the side of the man's head, gasping for air desperately, like a child seeking milk at a mother's breast--
--but it was then that your oxygen-deprived, addled brain blinked back into existence, out of animalistic survival mode, and realized that the man in front of you was singing "The Safety Dance".
Remember that time you came to my birthday party totally wasted? You told us that your speech was bad because you'd just been to the dentist, but then my mum realized that it had to be something else when you took someone else's car home and were swerving all over the road? Fourth grade sure was fun.
Comments 7
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
CONTINUE
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
Your feet scrabbled for purchase along the side of the vehicle, attempting to gain some sort of grounding to counteract the lack of earth beneath your feet. The hand around your neck tightened painfully, television-with-no-cable spots appearing before your eyes.
Rallying the last of your strength, you swung your fist around like a mace and smashed the side of the man's head, gasping for air desperately, like a child seeking milk at a mother's breast--
--but it was then that your oxygen-deprived, addled brain blinked back into existence, out of animalistic survival mode, and realized that the man in front of you was singing "The Safety Dance".
"What the FUCK?" you croaked in disbelief.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment