I "drove" the car into a grove of tree just outside the city. After directing Stanley (that's what he [?] wanted me to call him [?]) not to let strangers in, I set off to see the lights of New York City.
Finding a rusted, abandoned, and whiny bike, I hopped on and told it to shut up. Politely.
About 2 hours into my ride, I ran into (literally) Erasers. These ones were model-like men with smooth voices, and smooth actions. Sweeping my eyes around me, I saw that they had gathered in a 5-pointed star. Each of the points was an Eraser, and I, of course, was smack-dab in the middle. At once, 3 Erasers morphed and lunged at me. In a flash, I was off the bike and wheeled it around, knocking 2 of the 3 Erasers out of the way. Adrenaline rushes must do something to you, because I don't know where the heck I got all this muscle from. Those ugly dog-boys looked mighty surprised as well. I used this to get rid of the rest.
…MY TIRES MY HANDLEBARS…MY BEAUTIFUL-
"Oh, shut up, will you?" I interrupted disgustedly. After all, I had gotten quite bruises myself.
…OHHH…
It moaned. Who knew a bike could moan!
