run

there's no shame in running.
i mean, you killed al roker. and who's going to believe that you were trying to stop the beloved, early morning weatherman from carrying out some diabolical chocolate scheme that you're not really clear on.
you get in the truck and take off! who knew you had the ability to drive a big rig. you'd always hoped that you did, ever since you saw "big trouble in little china", so it's a very pleasant surprise. you actually make it into mexico (the men with the big guns at the stop points are surprisingly friendly) and to a very shifty hotel (or as they say south of the border... um... "hotel"... but they pronounce it differently) before you look at what's in the back of the truck. when you do open up the back of the truck and see what you've intercepted, you do a little happy dance.
and then take a siesta.
and then buy a really big casa.
and live very happily off of the crap in the back of the truck.
and the only reason why i don't tell you what specifically is in the back of the truck is because i want to leave it to your imagination.
it's not because i haven't really planned it out.
i, the storyteller, completely know what's in the back of the big rig.
and you know what? i'm tired of defending myself to you!
you're happy and you're rich. what more do you want??

THE END