Billy Bob Ray was just sittin' on 'is couch, drinkin' Bud Light, watchin' football (the good kind, ya know, with the helmets and the pointy oblong ball), cleanin' his shotgun, and complainin' bout those damn homosexuals, and their communist ways. Why couldn't they just be normal an' free like the rest of us normal people. They wasn't oppressed, that much. They should all just go back to Mexico where they belong if they can't fit in. Suddenly the door to his mobile home slammed open, and his wife Joy Ray walked in.
"Billy Bob! Whats this bout you shootin' at the neighbors cat again? Ah told you to put a silencer on that damn rifle o' yours before you try to catch it an' eat it. I swear you can be such a fuckin' retard sometimes. You don't wanna get busted for animal abuse again do you?"
"Shaddup bitch I was drunk, I didn't know wat' ah was doin'."
"You better lay offa that alkeyhol or ahma hafta cut your MacDonalds off again, that stuff just aint healthy, you remember what LIl Betty showed us on the Inta-Web. It aint good ta drink when your preggers, I don't want ya tah hurt the baby."
"Whatever Joy, ah do what I want."
"Fine, if you get caught again shootin cats I'm not goin tah court to defend yo sorry ass. In fact, I'm just gon' leave right now and take Daquans baby with me."
"Bitch I told yah tah stay away from that nigger! I don't want my children tah learn bad stuff from him!"
"Ah told yah! Afro-Americans aint supposed to be treated like trash no mo', juss give im' a chance. Ahm sure you can learn tah like him, and accept Roger propuhly into our family."
"He aint mah son you whore! Ah swear if ah didn't have tah worry bout' losin the dog in the divorce ahd ave' left you trailer trash years ago!"
"Yeah well at least I don't weigh four hunnit fiddy pounds!"
"Thats it! Ahm goin tah the bar! And don't you call the cops on me for drunk drivin' again! I only have one strike left!"
Billy Bob stormed out of the trailer, very slowly and carefully forcing his lard through the door frame. He jiggled over to his 2012 F-150 and swung the door open. Shoving his weight into the drivers seat and adjusting his flab to sit on the arm rest he started the engine. He could hear angry yelling from his wife, but he ignored it. He backed out of the dirt driveway and started down the gravel path to Eagle Street, which lead to the nearby town, Springfield.
He only made it halfway to his destination, after pulling onto the interstate, he continued driving north. He came to a construction zone, and not being very sober drove right through it without changing lanes. When he realized he was headed for a giant hole in the pavement where they were replacing the support beams and concrete from the epic gas truck explosion that happened the previous month, it was too late. He drove straight into it, smashing into the far end of the gap, he continued to fall and land in the middle of forty mile per hour traffic. When he hit the pavement he was launched through the front window due to his lack of a seatbelt, getting stuck halfway and stabbed by the bits of glass that were left. A car immediately hit after his not so graceful landing, a semi carrying... well waddya know, more gasoline. The truck tipped over, and luckily didn't spill its dangerous load... until another semi carrying cigarette lighters hit that one. The oil spread all over and was lit, and poor Billy Bob took ten whole minutes to die from the intense heat. Authorities that arrived on the scene reported that he smelled like an overcooked steak when they pulled him from the wreck.
