Okay. Stay calm.
That’s Mrs. Rondelay in the yard, and she’s eating the paperboy. Never really liked that kid anyway. Pretty sure he was the one who knocked over our mailbox last year.
There’s nobody near the car, but I’m pretty sure the tank is nearly empty: didn’t refill it on the way home from the bar last night. And where would I go anyway?
Probably best to stay put. Someone will come and rescue me. I’ve got a lot of friends, we all go out clubbing together. I mean, surely one of them will think of me. Won’t they?