MC w/ the Grim Reaper
You: Tall, really fucking thin, sightless black holes for eyes, huge scythe poised to rip the soul from my still-warm body.
I don't understand. If the whore in the SUV had tapped her gas pedal a little harder, I'm certain we'd be riding off together to the afterlife. What happened? Maybe a last-second pang of conscience made her not want to drive through me? Maybe she took a break from fellating her cell phone to see if she'd killed anyone on her wild excursion outside the lines? I have never been so close to a moving vehicle without being inside of it. I could've changed bitch's headlight bulb. With my right hand.
Now it might be another 50, 60 years until I see you again. Don't forget me!