You decide that the best thing to do at this point is simply get rid of the package. It has caused its first carrier enough misfortune (you snicker quietly). The nearest dumpster is a good ways from your house, so much so that you will have to make your trip in your old '59 Buick Roadmaster. You hop in the cab with the package in hand, then set it on the seat next to you. You pull out of your dirt driveway, leaving the horrific scene for the scavengers to feast upon. The dark country road that you have driven so many times seems even darker now, and the headlights on the old jalopy hardly begin to pierce the shroud that is this impenetrable night. You are glad that your eyes have kept keen, as their health makes these sorts of situations much more manageable than they would be for most of your peers. You turn the knob on the radio, clicking it on. You decide to tune into...
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