Running late, I hopped into my car and sped away from Metamuville. I soon felt a mild pain in the middle of my back. Thinking there was a crescent wrench or something jabbing into me, I leaned forward and groped back there. Although it's been quite a while since my hand has seen the middle of my back, I was satisfied that there was no wrench. Then the pain became an annoying burning. Then a really intense burning.
"Crap. Did I get stung by someth—?"
My thought was interrupted by the singularly horrific sensation of Something crawling into my mouth. The little bugger had traversed my torso and found a nice, warm place to hide.
I spit him out with great urgency, and he landed on my steering wheel, still kicking. Swerving, I hit him with a magazine. His corpse then dropped. It dropped into the 2mm gap between my sandal and bare foot.
I would love to know what this looked like to an observer.
"No, officer, I'm not actively doing hits of meth while driving with my feet," I would say sweetly. "Why?"