I told my uncle that I had inadvertently killed my amphibians, and he seemed pretty bummed out about it. I was glad for it, really, as you always want someone to be miserable with, if you're me. Or The Devil, I guess, as my parents raised me to believe.
Anyway, Uncle John made me feel better by telling me about a girl he went to school with, who had her toddler in the back seat of the car, and unintentionally killed him in much the same way.
Yeah. I know I complain about my uncle a lot (or at least I do in person), but his story really did make me feel better about what happened.
Did I mention Satan?
Rish
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