• 130



    You clear your throat of bilious traces of sauerkraut. “Well, you see, when God or Whatever decides to make trips to the restroom or the underwear department a little more interesting…”

    Before you can say anymore, the EMT swiftly turns around to say something to the driver and then looks at you again. “We’ll be stopping shortly.”

    You feel relieved that the ambulance has almost made it to the hospital and try not to gurgle up any of that strawberry filling when you sigh. Then the EMT disappears. Into thin air.

    “Goddammit, I was hallucinating!,” you eject along with what looks like bits of milky sausage.

    Sure enough, the ambulance makes a clean stop but as if it were pulling alongside a funeral home instead of an ER. Then the ambulance itself disappears and you find yourself lying perfectly still and parallel to the right lane’s rumble strip.

    You sit up to look around but everything is so still – you wouldn’t be surprised if you could sense quarry demolition in the Black Hills of South Dakota. You’d like to lay back down for a few minutes to at least let your queasiness of digestion make acquaintance with your confusion, but you hear some vehicles approaching – a car on your left and a pickup from behind.


    If you try to wave down the truck, go to page 103.

    If you take your chances with getting the person in the car to help, go to page 173.


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