Mental picture.

I need you guys to visualize this, OK? You're driving on the interstate. It's a three-lane interstate, and you're in the middle lane. Of course there are cars ahead of you, behind, to the sides.

Up ahead, though, traffic is starting to slow. You notice a cop car, lights flashing, up ahead. He's parked to the left of the road.

You, being a moron, don't follow suit as everyone directly in front of you, in your middle lane, begins to merge into the lanes to the right and left. It is sort of like the parting of the Red Sea. The cars ahead are all just creating a path for you, directly down the middle lane.

Until it's too late, and you realize WHY they are getting the hell out of the middle lane. (Turns out, the Red Sea was NOT parting to allow your car to sail smoothly past slow moving traffic).

Because there was a carcass smack dab in the center of your center lane. And you use the word "carcass" loosely, because you're PRETTY SURE in a former life, and form, it was a deer. Living, breathing (terrifying). Just minutes ago. This, right here, is a fresh kill.

But all you see in front of you is a blob. Guts. Is that a leg? Maybe. Perhaps there were four once upon a time. You're sure there was probably a head at one point. Hell, even a body. But all that's there now is a blob. Random smatterings of parts all over the ENTIRE lane that you're in.

Blood, of course, everywhere. Organs here and there. Was that a liver? Could've been a third leg, but you can't really tell because that deer is OBLITERATED. And it's in your way. And there is no way to avoid it now because everyone ahead of you moved to the outside lanes, and you're trapped with the... thing. The once-deer. Traffic to your left and right is not allowing you to get out of the way. Out of the lane. With it.

So you know what you do?



You feel it. You feel the bumps under your car. Bumps, plural, because there were more than one. More than one chunk to run over. The once-deer was no longer singular. It was splattered.

And you're going to have nightmares for all of eternity because that's what you do. You're neurotic. And crazy, but at least you can admit it. You probably won't look at your tires. Ever again. Because you know, JUST KNOW, there are pieces stuck in the grooves.

Pieces of once-deer.

That is what I did last night.