It's yet another dreary day of overcast nastiness . . . silly of me, thinking it was summer and all. To remedy the general feeling of gross this day has produced, I am fleeing to the nearest house of the caffiene and drowning myself in espresso.
Following the caffienated fun times, I intend to drive to Vegas with the windows down and the desert air blowing through my hair. Unfortunetely, I'll be so hopped up on espresso that 5 minutes into the drive to Sin City I will plow into an iHop killing 3 truckers instantly . . . their deaths will be quick, have no fear. I have no intention of remaining at the site of the crash and therefore will flee into the night. It'll be the shit urban legands are made of.
"Then the crazy espresso demon ran into the night, howling like a monkey. To this day you can hear her screams in the forest near that cursed iHop. Just when you think she has disappeared into the night having had her coffee fix, that's when you hear gentle bubbling of the Mr. Coffee perking. It's the last sound you will ever hear . . . "
Needless to say, I'll eat their brains, zombie style!
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