Because of tutoring several medical students in college (our minors
converged) I knew the wounds in my arm were minor...but they were bleeding
like crazy. And speaking of crazy, I must be in shock of something...so
cold...so pissed off...I found myself kicking down the door to Carl's
management trailer and flinging drops of blood on all the exposed
paperwork and the velvet Elvis portraits covering every available wall
inch. I laughed a little. Scare me, will you?
I purposely smeared blood on the curtains. Suddenly...
-
I realized I should get help. I knocked over the phone and with trembling fingers, pressed 911. Help arrived in minutes.
-
Carl leaps into the office, weilding a heavy, metallic stapler. Red, Swingline, I noted.
-
I notice spilled pictures. Showing happy, laughing, adult naked women...and pounds of cocaine and pot and heroin.
-
I fainted from blood loss.
-
I puked from stress, all over his fabric recliner.
-
my leapings knocked a picture over, uncovering a peep/pipe into the women's showers one trailer over.
-
Josh Burbank runs in and tries to eat the desk.
-
I hallucinate a musical starring the Muppets and multiple actors named John.
-
I discover Carl's weapons stash in the floor (running a carnival was good cover).
-
Carl's hot wife, Belinda, walks in. Along with her seven well-adjusted children.
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