Chronicles of a Baby-Smuggler
Yup, he's alive. Well, as close to being alive as the Pope can ever hope to be. He's a good man, but flirting with death is nothing new to this guy. He doesn't stick around for too long, though. Orange sparkly effects overtake him and the next moment he's gone. And just as suddenly you're alone again
You rub your eyes. Damn. "Damn," you mutter dispassionately. "Aint that some shit." Aint it?
After you perform a thorough check of your body, you discover you've only got moderate whiplash and a couple bruised internal organs, while the involuntary pancreas spasms in your gut suggest some internal bleeding. You shrug. You can walk this one off. Next, you check on the babies...
You step out into the cold, silent night. Your every move seems to echo through eternity. The trees whisper the dark secrets of midnight to each other (you know, stupid tree gossip) as a gelid wind blows from the north, arousing them from their slumber. The wavering of their branches is for some reason horrifying to you. But the creepiest thing is that the interstate is completely empty. You shiver.
Clumsily, you fumble around with the keys until you finally find the one that unlocks the trunk, then check on the babies. And lucky you, it seems they're fine. But it looks like their diapers need to be changed. Oh man, that smells like the rancid breath of Satan. Shut the damn trunk!
You shut it. Much better. Well, your car's a worthless wreck. So now what, genius?
You rub your eyes. Damn. "Damn," you mutter dispassionately. "Aint that some shit." Aint it?
After you perform a thorough check of your body, you discover you've only got moderate whiplash and a couple bruised internal organs, while the involuntary pancreas spasms in your gut suggest some internal bleeding. You shrug. You can walk this one off. Next, you check on the babies...
You step out into the cold, silent night. Your every move seems to echo through eternity. The trees whisper the dark secrets of midnight to each other (you know, stupid tree gossip) as a gelid wind blows from the north, arousing them from their slumber. The wavering of their branches is for some reason horrifying to you. But the creepiest thing is that the interstate is completely empty. You shiver.
Clumsily, you fumble around with the keys until you finally find the one that unlocks the trunk, then check on the babies. And lucky you, it seems they're fine. But it looks like their diapers need to be changed. Oh man, that smells like the rancid breath of Satan. Shut the damn trunk!
You shut it. Much better. Well, your car's a worthless wreck. So now what, genius?