As September settled over Southern California, and the evenings came increasingly early, Jim started getting home just as the dusk was settling in. It...was one of these early evenings, as he was pulling up to his parking spot that he almost ran Donna over. She was lying in his parking spot nestled in a pool of vomit and smelling like she hadn't showered in at least a month. Her beautiful hair had been cut very short and her skin tone was very sallow and unhealthy looking. At first, staring down. Ah, now there's a word you can get right out of your mind, execution, George Sanders thought to himself as he sat in the dark dimness of Sammy's Roadhouse with a pint of Guinness in front of him. Execution is not a word you want to be thinking about right now, good buddy.Yet the dark thoughts wouldn't go away, so he dumped more beer on them. He was only vaguely aware of the Monday night football game going on above him on the big screen tv hanging from the ceiling. He heard the ka-chunk of. More

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