Ive been thinking about Mary Jane. Feel sadder than yesterday, which was just shock and excitement to start with. Now Im contemplating all the life she isn't going to live, because she wasn't much more than me when she went ker-splat.

Perhaps the best part of it was over – who wants to be twenty-five and, like, settling down? She'll be awfully glamorous to all her friends, being the dead one.

I don't actually know she went ker-splat. That's how I imagine it, thought – the truck hitting the back end of the cab, where Mary Jane's sitting looking absolutely miserable because, poor beeyatch, she's seeing Florida for the first time. And she's realizing that she's either going to have to get lobotomized or start networking with the lost and lonely. It's unbearable to be surrounded by folks who think all the problems of life can be solved. Solved by cardio-vascular workouts. Solved by smiley-God. Solved just by being American. That truck just put her out of her misery, is the way I see it.

Where's my truck?