I was in the middle of typing my story when suddenly, I heard a loud screech. My dad went out to check it out and I followed him. In the middle of the street, a man was lying down, bleeding. He had scratches on his arms and he was trying to get up but the medics told him to stay down. People, neighbors (gosspiers) were huddled around him.

In the middle of watching, I found myself smirking. Am I sadistic? WHAT THE HELL. Okay so.. an idea popped out in my head. I feel like I can make it into another story.

About the accident, the man was drunk and crashed into a bloody vehicle. That man was drunk! DRUNK. And he rode his bloody motorcycle. . (sorry for the language)

Why did he have to get drunk? He could have just bought beers, went home and drink like there is no tomorrow. UGH.

anyway, there you go.