You defy all laws of motherfucking gravity and you hover. It’s like your body wants to try on its ghost suit before it decides if it’s going to buy it.
So unless ghost suits come covered in gravel and pre-soaked in blood I’m betting mine didn’t fit. At least I hope what I’m soaking in is blood, because I’ve been feeling something warm and wet running down my thigh since I hit the pavement (if I live to retell this story, I’m sticking with the bloody version of it). I’d know for sure if I could see over top of the gas tank crushing my chest. I’d ask River to look but he’s no good to me unconscious.
Wait a minute! Wait a motherfucking minute! After I finished scouring the textbooks and the cocksucking manuals at the DMV, I found a catalog in the glove compartment! From LL Bean! Turns out there ARE gravel-covered ghost suits pre-soaked in blood! It fucking worked! If that friggin' gas tank wasn't on my chest I'd still be floating!
Hot damn, River! I been dragging your ass around in the back seat since Halloween 1993 but now I’m coming to join ya!
Opening: H.E. Ellis.....Continuation: Dave Conifer