Taken from: Tonight is the Night I Fell Asleep At The Wheel. By: The Barenaked Ladies
"Good work today." Several people smiled at the blonde as he walked towards his car. He smiled and nodded at them happily.
"Hey! Still coming over on Friday?" The dirty blonde's perverted acquaintance demanded rubbing his stubbly chin thoughtfully.
"Yeah, I'll bring the boy!" He nodded as he entered his car. Shutting the door behind himself and yawning. 11 P.M. the meeting had certainly run late.
He sighed. Traffic was heavy today and he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he would have to deal with a pissy wife once he returned home. But he was driving home to be with his son. He yawned widely his jade eyes shimmering in the small red glow of the tail-lights of cars in front of him. He ran a hand through his straw-colored hair and glanced yet again at the clock, 1:07 A.M. three hours? Oh well, he'd deal with it later. Yet again his mind was pulled to the flawless slightly tanned skin and aqua gleaming eyes, so bright and so youthful, looking up at him.
Soon he found himself on the familiar road that led into his small town that was outside the city. He paid it no mind as his eyelids began to flutter. Attempting to shake himself awake he made the smooth corner around the small shopping district that surprisingly still had people walking up and down the streets. Then blackness was overwhelming, his eyes fastened shut and his head slumped forward and struck the steering wheel leaving a bruise across his forehead.
Slowly the green eyes fluttered open. There was no commotion, no screaming brakes. Most of it was over before he awoke. His eyes flashed around frantically when a warm liquid began to dribble onto his face he glanced up at it. His coffee cup dripped from the ceiling. The ceiling? He quickly glanced out of the crunched and shattered window, where the horizon had flipped. He reached up towards the splintered glass where he had realized his trip was not yet over.
The worst part was hitting the ground, not so much the feeling so much as the sound. He shivered as the thick crimson liquid came into view from being splattered on the window. He wondered if all this was real. Because tonight is the night he fell asleep at the wheel.
Rubberneck traffic and passersby, the slow-motion Walter and the fire engine guy, stand around with their mouths open wide. Some idiot asked "is someone inside"
He coughed and saw the jaws of life, they tried and they tried, But alas there was no hope. Sputtering the rose fluid leaked out of his mouth and onto his new pure white button down.
Nobody there could know how he felt. Because tonight is the night he fell asleep at the wheel.
Sighing hoarsely he guessed it's over now, Because, he had never seen so much blood. Noting to himself that, in all of the confusion, there was something serene. That he was just a posthumous part f the scene.
Shockingly enough he was no longer looking from the position of the blood soaked driver, but was now looking in, as the radio blared and the wheels spun. Glancing down he could see his face slump with a grin.
Pulling his mind back to his thoughts he had realized. "And you…You were the last thing on my mind…you're the last thing on my mind…you're the last thing on my mind…you're the last thing on my mind…"
-Alfred F. Jones
-Your father,
Arthur Kirkland