It was said yesterday that if my stories weren't so long, if I made them more gross and used smaller words people would think they are funnier and I would get more comments, proving I was liked better. So let me try that.

I grew up in a small town in New Jersey. The sort of place where a lot of people knew each other. This story is true, and I can say so because I knew all the people that it happened to. One of those people was an EMT named Alasdair. He got a call in the middle of the night, about 2am, that there had been an emergency. A driver had hit another person.

The driver was not drunk, just a little tired, and the girl he hit was just walking home late after spending time at a friend's house. She had just tripped and stumbled into the street at the wrong time. No one was really to blame.

It had all happened so quietly that no one really heard the accident. Even though this was right outside my old elementary school, almost everybody was still asleep. They only came outside to see what happened once they saw all of the flashing lights.

The girl was lying on the hood of the car, her eyes closed, looking like she was asleep, but she was dead. There was nothing the EMT people could do but take the body away. They lifted her up, but the back of her head hit the windshield just right. Even though it looked like there was nothing wrong with her, the back of her skull had been torn open and the brain had  been crushed to pieces. When they picked her up, it all fell out and it ran like tomato sauce and jelly slowly down the front of the car. We were all horrified. Sometimes Alasdair still wakes his wife up from screaming in his sleep. The girl went to my high school. Before then I never even knew who she was.

There. I tried to make it short and I stuck to how it all really happened. But now that I look at it, maybe I didn't make it disgusting enough, because it doesn't seem any funnier to me. That had been the original suggestion, and the original point of writing a short and gross blog. Maybe I made another point instead. You decide. I don't want to think about this one much more.