Another Monday Morning
She is overwhelmed by your alien fury and passes out under the power of your sex.
Then you nick her wallet and knife and dump her at a truck stop.
East is wide and flat, you find, and few other hitchhikers look appealing. Either old or disturbingly homeless-looking. Or male. You drive on with the radio for comfort, counting your stolen money and wishing "Marlene Kukritch", as it says on the driver's license, a nice time, wherever she is.
As evening rolls on you pull into a biker bar in the middle of nowhere. Several mean-looking guys, each about three times bigger than you, stare as you enter: some angrily, some appreciatively.
Then you nick her wallet and knife and dump her at a truck stop.
East is wide and flat, you find, and few other hitchhikers look appealing. Either old or disturbingly homeless-looking. Or male. You drive on with the radio for comfort, counting your stolen money and wishing "Marlene Kukritch", as it says on the driver's license, a nice time, wherever she is.
As evening rolls on you pull into a biker bar in the middle of nowhere. Several mean-looking guys, each about three times bigger than you, stare as you enter: some angrily, some appreciatively.