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"Watch out, Bob!" yelled Monica as she saw the red pickup truck cross the yellow line onto their side of the road.
One minute, laughter and gaiety, the next tragedy.
Monica's warning was too late even before she opened her mouth. The truck thundered into the automobile, the two vehicles locked as though engaged in the act of love.
Pieces of headlamps flew into the Saturday morning air, the sun's rays bouncing upon them in firefly fashion. The truck's bumper fell to the ground, mangled. Both fenders of the automobile crumpled giving the appearance of used aluminum foil. Green coolant flowed from the radiator of the auto finding a path through the twisted metal to the road, then trickled off the asphalt to the gravel coated berm.
Spreckles of red and green paint danced together in the air, settling within a few seconds to Mother Earth.
The windshield on the pickup truck was torn from its moorings, the driver hung over the steering wheel, his head seeping red liquid onto the dash. In the automobile, lay two more bodies. Bob's forehead swelled above his right eye, the result of his head hitting the top of the windshield. Monica's yellow hair was streaked with blood from her head wound. The windshield on her side was cracked in spider web fashion. Neither of them was conscious of the sound of a rig rumbling down the road towards them.
The trucker screeched his tractor to a halt behind the automobile, switching on his turn signals as he opened the door.