A Skeleton's Hope (Rewritten!)

Time For Life To Suck It

| Things still don't go according |
| to plan but it's somewhat better? |
| also the title is meant to be an insult |

Today's the day you die.

You die on a Tuesday.

Such a shit day to die on.

But the day isn't really any of your concern.

"OhmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmYFUCKINGGOD, SLOW DOWN - !!!!"

"t'is is meh' goin' slow."

"THIS ISN'T GOING SLOW, THIS IS SUICIDE!"

"doesn't seem like a bad idea." Red replies to you mindlessly. "plus 'm und'a the speed l'mit."

"How the fuck - HOLY SHIT WATCH OUT FOR THE CAT - "

"why the fuck is there a cat in the middle of the fuckin' road - !"

"OH MY GOD, DON'T SWERVE LIKE THAT - !"

"stop screamin' ya' voice is distractin' as fuck!"

"I'D STOP SCREAMING IF YOU KNEW HOW TO DRIVE - "

"bitch, i know how ta' drive a- !"

"TRUCK!"

"great, first ya' annoyin' now ya' just stupid. we ain't - "

"YOU'RE GOING TO HIT THE TRUCK!!!"

What is your concern is how you don't die today.

Because you don't want to die on a Tuesday.

Maybe a Friday.

Red finally looks ahead and is almost immediately blinded by the light that reflects off the windshield of the truck in front of you two. His sockets widen as he barely manages to register the vehicle before turning the wheel sharply to the left, stepping on the gas and taking a leap of faith.

The turn jerks you around a bit and you hit your head on the back of your seat, and the pain takes a while to settle in. Not only that, but your seatbelt had dug into your skin since you held onto it tightly and somehow you have rope burns on your shoulder.

What wonderful feelings.

After a quick second, Red slams his foot on the breaks and the both of you slam forward suddenly. Red hits his forehead on the horn while you head your head on the dashboard.

Let's see...

Broken leg, possibly concussions and rope burn.

Better than death?

For the most part, yeah.

But someone's going to die today, and it's not you.

"...we're here."

You snap up to look at Red, who for the most part regained his composure and started driving again, slowly this time. Beads of sweat rolled down his skull and you can't tell if they're out of nervousness or heat but you could care less.