Outside, under the floodlights, I mistook a massive St. Bernard playing frisbee for a guard dog. I returned indoors to warn Paul, but he was busy unionizing the janitors.
I was offered a ride home by an unidentified ex-girlfriend. She couldn’t see out of her windscreen.
“How do you know you’re not going to end up in the pileup?”
“I don’t really.”
We ended up in the pileup.