by Scott Hardie on September 12, 2009
There are some dangerous intersections in our neighborhood, where trucks come barreling through after the light turns red. This morning, Kelly and I were waiting at the light when she dropped her sunglasses. "Fuck beans," she muttered, unbuckling her seat belt and leaning forward just as the light turned green. With trepidation, I glanced both ways, then rolled forward and coasted through the intersection, reaching the other side safely. When she buckled up again and I breathed a sigh of relief, she asked me what was the matter. I told her I had a terrible vision that we would be hit by a truck and her last words on this Earth would be "fuck beans."
One Reply to Crash
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »