Carl scooted from the basement of his twice-mortgaged house and jumped into his new Dodge Ram. He and his new neighbor, Ski, rolled down Highway 121 with Ski's cycle lying in the back. Cars and trucks were flying by at sixty miles per hour. Carl was barely doing twenty approaching the radio tower outside Holbrook.

"I pay no attention to the traffic," Carl said. He turned the wheel hard to the right and took the truck off the road, skidding in the dirt and gravel.

"Jesus!" Ski cringed as Carl leapt from the cab and dashed back onto the road. He saw Carl snatch something off the center yellow line and toss it onto the shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ski shouted, but his voice died in the roar of a passing semi loaded with hogs. Looking both ways, he sprinted across the highway to join Carl, who knelt next to a plump, misshapen lump of gray fur. Carl ran a hand across its furry belly.

"Still warm," he reported. "You hungry, buddy?"

Ski said uneasily, "How about we just stop at Burger King?"

"No need," Carl drawled, as he sawed off the opossum's head. Lifting the carcass by its pink tail, he stalked back to the truck.