MyGawd he muttered again and again under his breathseething as he agilely curved his vehicles wheels around or straddled freshcrushed bodies tattering the tarmac  they retained enough integrity that he could identify what they had been

parking his 4Runner outside his employment killing it he quickly grabbed a white envelope a piece of junk mail he gathered from his mailbox on his way in and with his inevitable pen scribbled on its back words that he realised as he wrote them could be sang to The Twelve Days of Christmas

On the third day of the New Year

Inhumans gave to me

Three dead rabbits

Two dead squirrels

Two dead owls

And not one auto fatality

bitterly  MyGawd  Cant fuckin slow down for a damn thing

1637,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  3  1. 18