You're twelve and she's thirty-eight, but love don't care. Your parents called the police on her, so she hopped in her Mazda and drove past your place honking the signal for you to climb down from your window with a packed bag. You've been on the run from the law ever since. All because you're in love. (And you murdered a storekeeper's family during a holdup in Tucson.)
They've got you racing towards a cliff now. Not quite the Grand Canyon. But it's big and deep. (Like the hole you made in that crotchety old shopkeeper�s neck when you fired that gun. Blood shot out like the water fountains at school and you liked it.) The police have stopped their cars a hundred yards back. They know they've got you cornered. (The shopkeeper's wife died in a corner. She begged you to let her live. But her pleas only made you thirstier for her blood). They're using the megaphone to ask your social studies teacher to let you go because you're just a boy. (The shopkeeper's son was younger than you. His head came clean off his neck. Why can a gun sometimes make a clean hole and other times make a head come flying off of a neck like that? You wanted to ask your social studies teacher but she was too busy screaming for you to stop.) Your social studies teacher is looking at you now.
"Are you going to let me go?" you'll ask.
"I loved you," she'll say. "Before the robbery."
You'll sit quietly, remembering the shopkeeper's wife.
"You're no good, are you?" she'll ask.
You'll grab at the door handle but it'll be locked. The second it takes you to find the lock is enough time for your social studies teacher to take the two of you over the cliff. You'll be bummed that you have to die right after you found out how much fun it is to kill. In your last seconds, you'll pray to God to let you survive and kill some more. Or at least to let you watch your social studies teacher die. Or even, to let your soul escape your body so that you can watch yourself die. Your social studies teacher will be remembered as a remorseless, homicidal perv. They'll have the perv part right, but if only they knew just how many lives she'll have saved by taking yours.
Happy You And Your Social Studies Teacher Drive Over A Cliff Day!
