I am driving 95 through the Carpal Tunnel. I am vertiginous in the midst of a deliberate downpour. I am experiencing a schism of schisms, and my ideal cosmic response transcends prior planetary possibilities. My only hope is to create an alternative alternative, but my universe is familiar solely with destruction. Meanwhile, the risk of exposure increases at an alarming rate. Coterminous with the ticking of the portentous clock, their lights flicker freshly in my rearview mirror.
There were plenty of signs directing me in the right direction, but I was too busy evading the authorities. I took an absurd combination of exits and ended up in the middle of nowhere, yet I still hear the sirens approaching. I find myself in a cul-de-sac of cul-de-sacs, and I am contemplating continuing the chase by foot.
Stay tuned. I might be in your neighborhood soon.