Harold had just finished cleaning up his murdered wife’s blood when the phone rang.
It was his good friend, Arnie. Did Harold want to go to the pub that evening? Arnie’s wife had just left on an extended vacation and he was free as a bird. Harold said he was free as a bird too. His wife had also just gone on an extended vacation.
Good friends don’t have to explain much. Both intuitively knew what the other had done. Both got roaring drunk. No one in the pub believed their cock and bull stories about murdering their wives. In fact both so embellished their narratives that the whole pub was in stitches.
But the next day was no fun, I can tell you. Try getting rid of a couple of bodies when you’ve got one hell of a hangover.
There were four people in the car. It was speeding along the road. I know it was speeding because it passed me going at a terrific rate. That was about two minutes before I came across the accident.
The road was wet. It had been raining, but was now clearing up. There was a right hand curve in the road, and the driver obviously missed it, and the car went straight ahead and plummeted down a small bank. Three of the people in the car seem to have been thrown clear, including the driver. They were standing together on the side of the road. But the fourth, a passenger in the back seat I think, was a mess.
There was blood everywhere, and he obviously had head injuries. One of his eyeballs had completely left its socket and was hanging down like a yoyo. He was lying in the middle of the road, about ten metres from where the car went down, so he must’ve somehow been thrown back out of the car after impact.
The blood! I’ve never seen anything like it. I think he was still alive. I’m not sure though, because the first aid attendant kept getting in the way of my camera.