Why had the car had smashed through the wall of my motel room? Who knew, but there it was.
From bed, Rhonda screamed, “Do something!”
“She's hysterical,” I thought, “maybe I should slap her.”
I held my dog by his collar and we spun in backward circles. My nakedness was punctuated by my bare, white, butt circling round in the car's single remaining headlight.
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