Rick looked at the headless corpse slumped down in the passenger seat of the El Camino.

“We should eat at McDonalds. It’s cheap,” he said to the body.

He looked down at the disembodied head in the passenger side floorboard. I am going to rip your head off, it seemed to be saying.

“No!” Rick spat back, “I ripped your head off. You begged for mercy! You begged me not to rip your head off! But I did it.”

A limosine crept past the parked El Camino. Rick imagined that Kelly Clarkson was inside of it. He wondered if she would be impressed when she found out how he had taken care of this hitchhiking asshole that didn’t want to eat at McDonalds. She would probably have sex with him. Then she would give him tickets to one of her concerts.

He looked over at the headless corpse. “See that? I got Kelly Clarkson tickets, you asshole. All you got is no head.”

He licked the blood from his machete, then cranked the El Camino and followed the limosine. Maybe Kelly would give him a ride.