A few nights ago I’m walking down the street. It’s Thursday, maybe 10 pm. I see this guy, around my age, lying in a dumpster full of brick roofing shingles. His white collared shirt is ripped open and he is not moving. Jesus, I think, someone should help this person.
I have no phone, I don’t speak Czech, and even if I had a fucking phone I wouldn't even know the number for an ambulance. Well, I think, maybe he’s just drunk. After a few minutes of standing there I decide this is a human being, and he's not okay.
Anyways, the rest of this story is boring so let’s just say he died in my arms and a car bomb went off at his funeral. SKEET!
