We were driving to the dog park today and noticed a car parked in a lot in the side of the road. It was an eighties model Chevy car, bronze, fringe in the windshield. A couple of nervous looking guys were inside. Another man was attempting to shut the enormous trunk with little success.
He slammed it once, twice. It bounced back open. He pulled out some twine and started tying it shut.
I said, "You know it's easier to do that if you chop up the body," as we drove past.
DH looked at me in horror. "How is it that you go straight to murdered body in trunk? What is wrong with you that your first thought is murdered body? I was thinking drugs or moving or broken latch. Seriously?"
The man poses a good question.
I am open to good answers.
I assume it is a combination of my dark and rather dry sense of humor (Is there a wet sense of humor, by the way? Shouldn't it exist as a counterpoint? Is it the same as a sophomoric sense of humor?) plus my over exposure to the worse side of humanity.
That's what I'm sticking with anyway. It has nothing at all to do with personal experience. I swear I only rented the woodchipper for limb disposal.
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