If you don’t yet believe how fucked up I am, here’s a small sampling of the thoughts I’ve had within the past 48 hours.
Dear God, if I have to leave my mom in this ghetto and go hike down the road, there’s a real and present threat that this will be the last time I ever see her. What do I give her to defend herself? The old atlas, maybe? Rolled up paper probably doesn’t work on Thugs like it works on cats. Thugs aren’t pussies. HAH.
Oh shit. How the hell do I explain this to her husband?
“The important thing is that I am okay. Mom may or may not have been human trafficked today. Sorry ’bout that.”
WHY IS THERE SO MUCH RAZORWIRE?
I wonder if those people will notice if I took their mini-donkey? He’d totally fit in the backseat. I’d name him Tonto and he’d do really well living in my home with me. I would ride him everywhere. Best friends forever.
THIS GUY doesn’t know how to drive on backroads at-fucking-all. SIXTY-FIVE CROTCHMUNCH.
You know what? If I kept a crate of dildos next to me in the car, it would really send the, “you’re a dick,” message home. I mean, it’s got a natural handle and stick in it and some good heft–I bet if I wanged it hard enough at a car, I would bust up some of that tempered glass. Nothing would say, “FUCK YOU,” like a pink glitter dildo getting whizzed at your windshield. I mean, what would you even say when that happens?
“Hold on Hank, there’s a giant wang stuck under my wipers!”
Would it be viable for me to hide a dog in our house until Adrian comes around to the fact that we actually need one? He’s not even home all day–he’d really probably not notice, and if he does I can just pass it off like he’s really crazy.
“Adrian, there are no dogs here. That’s ridiculous.”
“Then what is THAT THING RIGHT THERE.”
“Paranoid delusion. Take some Nyquil.”
Yeah. That would probably work.
They should have announced the death of Gary Coleman by saying, “WHATCHU TALKIN’ ‘BOUT, CEREBRAL HEMORRHAGE?” It would have been what he wanted.
Did that sign just say Autistic Child? What the hell…
What do I do, exactly? I mean, he’s warned me, but…what now?
Do I wear reflective clothing? Are there traps set in the area? Do I play dead or shout loudly so as to startle? Flash my lights? Try to engage or hide?
What precautions are being taken already? I feel incredibly underprepared for this moment of my life. I have so many questions.
I’m a really terrible person. Ever thought something you really really shouldn’t say?