I was staying at a woodland house in an ocean nearby field with Crystal and Tito. Tito was a Gypsy Joker on probation and in love with Crystal, who was warmth embodied and kindest of kind. They had driven up and seen me, rainstorm soaked and just so wet, they could only pity me and bring me home. I stayed for some days. Crystal cooked breakfasts that were so hearty and savored of mexican heritage with the smell of spices I couldn't name. At night we drank beer I had bought with my last twenty and she told Tito and I of the Black Bear that lived in the woods behind the house.
On a sunny day me and Tito went out back to trade a door from a wrecked truck to their own of the same model. We spent an hour getting it off. We spent another hour getting the other one off to switch them. And of course, we then spent a third hour taking the correct door off the wreck once we noticed what we'd done. While we were laughing a twig snapped in the forest behind us. And, in the shortest of shared glances, lasting a second or less, we spoke sentences: ~It's a Bear! ~~Yes, I know. We're screwed, arent we? ~Pretty mutch. But I have a plan. ~~What? ~Run! ~~Dude!
And that is exactly what we did.
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