Cheap Beer and Screaming

Driving down the road, pitch black except for the lone, weak beam of light from my one headlight, I have no idea where I am. I haven't passed a sign for at least thirty miles, well one sign, but who eats at Denny's? Everything is peaceful in the desert at night. Quiet. Thankfully the guy in my trunk screaming is keeping my senses alert and my brain awake. After returning to my car from the inside of the truck stop that smelled like fried chicken and cheap, replica cologne, I found the "screaming guy" in my car attempting to steal my radio. "Screaming guy" was surprised to see me back so quick and I was surprised he was interested in my piece of shit radio. Without thinking, i hit the guy in the head with my recently purchased 40-ounce bottle of cheap beer, then grabbed him by his jacket, that interestingly enough, looked like the one with all the zippers from the Michael Jackson video, and maneuvered the guy into my car trunk.

Now the cheap beer has worked its way through my system and I eagerly search for the welcoming lights of the next truck stop / casino / prostitute haven, so that I can relieve my bladder. Soon I spot a Texaco and make my way into a parking space next to an old beat up truck with a sign on the side of it that says, "Joe's Surf & Turf : landscaping and pool maintenance".

One thing in life I hate is when an automatic door doesn't open as fast as I'm anticipating it to, and I slam into it. The noise from me dislocating my pelvic bone on the "automatic" door apparently wakes up the night clerk because he nods and points to the back of the store when i mention the word shitter. As I'm standing there urinating, I look to my right and wonder if Amy realizes just how much Brian loves her. Does she know that he brings a knife with him to the restroom so that while he's pissing, he can proclaim his undying love for her by carving it into the bathroom wall for anyone who ever happens to piss in this same stall to see? It brings a tear to my eye. Not the love, but the ignorance, the stupidity, the ...

I'm torn back to reality as I hear "screaming guy" screaming from my trunk. Zipping up, I head outside and see approximately forty-seven Hispanic people standing around my Buick looking at it, wondering why it is screaming.