You scratch your sharted booty then head back to your two-ton Dixie chariot and search
the cabin to find your Double Quarter Pounder® and feast on it to suppress your hunger,
so you can focus on evading the police for murder or something to that effect.
There you are, my god damn breakfast!
You put it on the dash after taking a bite.
You turn on the engine and save your truck from the wreckage you take a ride to Ernie &
John Auto Repair to get your truck fixed; you pray to Abraham Lincoln to save you from
this mess or whatever.
The siren noise slowly goes away, and you finally relax for a while; you got away
before they arrived. However, your moment of relief is rather short-lived as you start
seeing more people running around and shouting at each other, then you see the traffic
down the north highway; you get more concerned, is there a terror attack
going on?
You finally arrive at your destination and get off your truck to examine the damage so
you can talk with the shop owners about the prices or something. Oh wow, she really
tanked the impact; you just have a door and a left panel to be changed, you are soproud
of her; you promise yourself to never underestimate her again.
Hello, is anyone here?
The repair shop is seemingly closed, at 9:10? maybe they went to eat their burgers or
something. You see others gathering around the area with their cars. Why is everyone
scared are they fatphobic?
What do you do now?
