The Desert's Revenge

The old lady yelled help in such a funny voice he could hardly keep from laughing. He pushed her down the hall of her trailer and pressed a pillow over her face until she quit kicking him. He was so strong, he could hold the pillow with one hand!

On his way out, he took the keys to the 1970 Monte Carlo off the hook in the kitchen. He filled the tank with cash from the old lady’s purse and headed east. He drove the scenic route, watched his mirrors, and minded the speed limit all the way across the border into Arizona.

Forty miles down a bad road, he realized he must have missed a turn, and he was headed into the empty desert. That’s when he heard a POP and felt the steering wheel jerk.

Five minutes later, he assessed his situation grimly. The spare had rotted to the rim, the temperature soared past one hundred ten, he had no water, and he hadn’t seen another car in hours.

He had a choice: walk and die on the road, or stay and die in the car.

Either way, the desert would take the old lady’s revenge.

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