A story.

Once there was a girl who borrow'd her mum's car because she had no gas. Her mum's car was brilliant and ran nicely and smoothly and had a wonderful soundsystem even just for being factory-installed and she loved it more than she could express with her limited vocabulary. The girl picked up her two friends, David and Phylicia and headed for Austin's barn, meanwhile sleepy-bear Austin slept peacefully in his bed so he could be rested for his busy workday ahead. Along the way, the girl HIT A FUCKING RACCOON AND KILLED IT DEAD.


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The sound inside a car while running over a living creature is the loudest, most horrible thud I can imagine. The little guy was busy picking through trash, saw big, scary me and decided to run for it -- right under the tires. And right before it happened I screamed such a scream unlike anything I have ever screamed before and then I felt guilty and confused. I KILLED SOMETHING! SOMETHING SIGNIFICANT! PROBABLY FINDING FOOD FOR ITS LITTLE RACCOON BABIES! WHO RUNS AT BIG, FAST MOVING LIGHTS LIKE IT'S A GOOD IDEA, EVER???

I didn't even freaking cry about it. Who kills something and doesn't cry about it? SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T HAVE A SOUL IS WHO.




Oh, my mother just gave me an iPod. So nevermind, I'm going to upload music for, uh, the next twelve hours. I LOVE MY MOTHER.






In Memoriam, Hungry Little Raccoon. May you forever rest peacefully, little guy. You dumb idiot.