Navigating the road behind him using the side mirror, Johnny eased to a stop just beside the rolling body of the stricken pedestrian. The young guy's legs were twisted in numerous angles and he was covered with a multitude of wet scrapes and contusions. Johnny leaned out the passenger window and smiled amiably at the poor fellow.
"What's happening, my man?"
A feeble hand reached out toward Johnny, trembling in the bright sunlight. A voice followed, choked with pain, "Help me, please."
"I'm messed up, messed up bad. Oh, the pain!" the young guy shuddered as waves of pain washed over him like the incoming tide.
Johnny nodded vigorously, "Yup, you sure are!"
The guy was fading fast, his voice receding like some faraway airplane, "Please."
Johnny leaned out the window and examined his car. There was a satisfying dent in the rear quarter panel but otherwise the car was immaculate, still gleaming in the sun from the fresh wax job Johnny had applied that very morning.
"Well you see," Johnny patiently explained to the dying man, "I kinda don't want you bleeding all over my interior. It's original. I mean, do know how much it would cost to get amount of blood of these leather seats? That's a lot of blood, my man. You look really bad."
The guy groaned weakly.
"I'll tell you what, tell me about your imagination. Do you have a good one?"
Johnny rested his chin on his folded arms and addressed the guy through a toothy grin, Do me a favor, will ya? Won't take but a minute. Have you ever imagined what it would look like when a big, fat goose gets struck by a supersonic jet at mach one? You imagine that scene for me, okay buddy?"
Johnny leaned back inside, settled into the driver's seat, and put the car into gear. He gave a quick push on the gas pedal, exhilarated by the deep rumble which pushed from beneath the hood, and called out to his new friend, "Keep that thought in mind for a moment, eh?"
Whistling a merry jingle as the wind ruffled his hair, Johnny drove about a half-mile down the road, where he slowed and cranked the wheel until his hood lined up the bloody body like a target, oh so far away. Johnny didn't need imagination to know what his reinforced bumper would do to a human head at a hundred and fifty miles-an-hour, he had witnessed that result many times before. He looked left and right as the big engine idled, making sure the road was clear of cars, then hit the clutch and slipped the tranny into first. The Chevy accelerated with eye-popping glee, no doubt overjoyed at the chance to be opened up and set free. The G-force pressed Johnny's neck into the leather as the car hit second gear, then deeper still in third and beyond. The needle easily ticked past 100 MPH but all Johnny could do was aim the black hood directly at the writhing body only a few hundred feet away. A shrill and spontaneous cry warbled forth from Johnny's throat and he pumped one fist triumphantly in the air, the point of no return so tantalizingly close. The breathless anticipation of what would happen on impact was no less powerful than his best orgasm.
Suddenly, a glint of metal flashed in the bright sunlight from somewhere to Johnny's right. He needed all his concentration to focus on the task at hand, yet it wouldn't do to run down some schmuck in front of a busload of witnesses with cell phone cameras now would it?
Johnny swore and swerved at the lest second, missing the body by mere feet. He slammed on the brakes just as a faded yellow VW Bug approached and sputtered to a stop beside him. Two elderly people popped out and asked, "Ooooh, what happened here?"