You know, there's an interesting fact about hitchhikers: Some of them are actually serial killers in disguise. Another interesting fact about hitchhikers: Most of the people who pick them up are also serial killers. That's how I got into the situation I'm in now.
I'm the hitchhiker. I've killed over 20 people in my latest scheme. Get on the highway, stick out my thumb, and hope for the best. And 20 people have used their sympathy to kill themselves. I mean, they should know better than to pick up a stranger.
Today I was hitchhiking down Route 66. A nice lady pulled over and opened her passenger side door with a smile. "Hop in, stranger, where are you goin'?"
"Anywhere you are, doll. I just need to get away from my family," I replied smoothly.
She giggled and I climbed in. All was going according to plan, until I eyed the gun that was on the floor next to her chair. "Oh, I keep that around for protection. You don't know who's out there, right?"
I smiled tightly. "Right."
So now I'm sitting in a nice car, a woman in the driver's seat, a gun between us, and I'm wondering whether or not I made the right decision to try and kill someone today. The car slowed down as it headed off the highway exit, and I reached for the gun, just as the lady driving did. Our hands brushed and each of us jerk away, observing the other. "Who are you?" I asked.
"Molly," she said, eyeing me. "Who are you?"
"Micheal. Though you may know me better as Jack D. Ripper."
Her eyes widened. "Well, you may know me better as Mrs. Jessica Rabbit."
I laughed. The whole situation was hilarious to me. "You mean I got in the car with a serial killer?!"
"Speak for yourself, I let a serial killer in my car!" Molly exclaimed.
The car stopped on the first curb that was wide enough for us to stop and we both reached for the gun. We grabbed it at the same time and the jolt was like electricity flowing through my body. I looked at her, and she looked at me. I smiled. "You know, rather than killing each other, why don't we team up and agree to kill others?"
Molly nodded and smiled hesitantly. "I'd like that," she said, her hand moving away from the gun.
I grabbed it and shot her in the head, and her blood splatted all over the driver's side window. "Sorry, Mrs. Rabbit," I chuckled. "But this is why you never pick up hitchhikers. This is a nice piece, though."692Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBowLJXB4pJ
With that, I ran from the car before someone could call the police. This was an interesting development, to be sure, and I'd be more careful next time. But for now, I took my stuff and hid the gun, walking down the curb backwards and sticking my thumb out behind me. "Come on, somebody's gotta be sympathetic around here..."
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