1 Trillion Dollar$

"And you know why we don't go over to their side?"

"Because they have tacky shoes?"

"Because they're evil."

..........

Nothing in the Michigan UP seemed normal or commonplace. The land was all forest and eerie small town folk who inherited peaky owlish eyes from generation after weirdo generation. The entire northern peninsula was vibe-ing a socially inept country slasher behavior. Completed with the anxious notion that they all held blood covered bibles over their hearts while they chopped a sinner's head off in the name of Jesus. 

Burly men with obscenely furry chests dominated the population. No-shave-november? More like no-shave-never. Seriously, it was as if they had awesome beards even since infancy.

Most Northern UP men were caught sporting strictly Carhart outer clothing and the sleek black outfits have been spotted zipping up the midwest. Not that Northern men care about such trends since they're too busy looming over a butchered stag in the dead of winter.  

If these people can't be found crouching somewhere in the middle of nowhere, try the nearest brewery where many of these hairy losers embarrass themselves. 

Everyone was a hunter's daughter or a master of arms in training. Misogyny, racism, and chauvinism hadn't yet been dealt with in these uncivilized parts. 

The star and I figured heading north was our safest bet. Except having Danger MIA and McDonald growing restless like a mad dog... moving anywhere seemed to be a good idea to us. 

Parachute

Today was my last day alive. I had envisioned this moment numerous times in varying circumstances and how I would not weep but instead bravely hold my head high, admiring all the beauty surrounding this world. Each breath would be an indescribable treat that opened my eyes wider than any muscles or torture device, clearing the veil away from the truth.

Unfortunately, after the first two hours of wandering around central park, tenderly caressing the roots of trees then watching in horror as random homeless men whipped out their stinking genitals to pee on such trees that I had touched, I ran into a young man. He jerked himself to the side and I recoiled slightly on impact, immediately ready to spout my apologies.

"I'm sorry-,"

"What the fuck?" He was looking at me like I had just swallowed a live chipmunk, furry tail and all, "Watch where you're going, dumb bitch."

Dumb bitch. Huh. Three strides away when my held tilted in naive disbelief; six strides away when my eyes began to lower into barbaric slits, as if I'd allow some punk to smack talk me on my dying day; not even eight strides away when my left hand closed around the back of his faux fur hood, dragging his skull onto the sidewalk. 

A look of abject surprise flashed across the teen's face before it morphed into panic as my right hand catapulted into his sour mug. The crunch was audible and so were his terrorized screams. That whiny behavior only portrayed him as more of a ball-sack. Technically he was crying because he got his nose smashed by a girl barely five foot tall. What a spongey chode.

After the ambulance had come to take him away I was already being lowered into the cop car with my hands cuffed behind my back. Worth it.