old careers, vermin, while we're on the topic of dead shit... i was driving home tonight on a normally busy route and i noticed down the road a bit what looked like a squirrel having a meth fit. i slowed down enough to notice that it was actually a little furry bunny, the squirrels less rat like more acceptable cousin. this thing about the size of the sandwich i had for lunch and was flippin and floppin and twitchin around havin a good old time right in the middle of the damn road. i looked behind me, put on my hazard lights and got out. my thought was, if the wounded beast had a fighting chance in hell it would be better off in the grass than under someones tire. i grabbed its back legs and as i was giving it the old heave ho, i don't think it was into the idea because it had another fit and slipped right out of my hand, mid swing, which propelled it about 6 feet through the air... straight into the corner of the curb... head first. and all of a sudden it wasn't so energetic. i noticed it was pretty banged up on one side. so now im starting to kinda feel bad. whats a man to do? leave it suffer? naaa. i turned it busted side down, as to not funk up my boots, put my foot on its head, as to gently hold it, not brutally crush it, and I grabbed a hold if its not so lucky rear rabbits feet and started to gently pull... until I applied about as much pressure as it takes to open a beer can... and then pop. no more pain, no more roadway dance party. i was getting back in the truck and noticed a guy in a fuel economic car at the cross street watching the kill easter show as he shook his head from side to side, not sure if he was mourning or showing disapproval. fuck man, if im ever in that bad of shape and someone finds me, you can first try to throw me, and then pull my head out. for the record.
oh jay, sorry, i didn't keep it, it was oozing face juice and i didn't have a bag, 1 more new rule, always carry a bag.