If ever there was a time to use his cell phone, this was it. But he had left his charger at home and the phone was dead. He squinted down the road and could just make out the flames rising from what had been his rental car, a sensible compact he'd picked up only hours ago at the airport. His mind raced. How was he going to explain this to Dick Peterson? If he didn't deliver the money he would be a dead man. He started walking, and then running, down the road. About a mile down the road, a truck pulled up With stereo speakers booming, it slowed to a crawl and began to follow him. As his pace slowed so did the truck. He tried running and the truck sped up just enough to stay with his dog, a precise 12.87 cm behind him. Truth be told, it kinda freaked him out. He considered leaping over the Smith fence and losing them, but he'd never had a tail before & it made him feel kind of special. Like the first time you notice a girl looking at you. Being followed was nerve racking, but this was the most attention he'd received since he split his pants down the inseam in third grade in front of the entire class, showing the group what "he spied," along with his backend (true story). So, the attention-grabber stood there for a moment before Sarah Jane threw cold water on it, melting it back into the hole from whence it came. He blushed, complained that it was cold and the covered the pulsing hole with his hands. Sarah Jane blushed as well, to see him all imploded & docile. Tenderly now, she removed his hands from the hole &, weeping, kissed all around it until his air valve was covered in lipstick. At last she rose and left her beloved inner tube to lie peacefully. And she promised herself she would never tire again.

 

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