“…morphine”
“Drive!”
I just want to get into this damned thing, and fucking Drive!
I’d drive, and drive, and never look the fuck back.
I’d have a sawed off pump action shotgun.
This on the seat next to me.
A crate of ammo. 10 bottles of Jack Daniels.
A few handy eight-balls of speed, and coke.
Boxes with rolls of Hundreds in them.
Morphine for if I get shot or stabbed.
Passports to several Central American countries.
A letter of introduction from Hillary Clinton,
and a pack of aspirins.
Eh,…the latter just to be on the safe side.
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