I do not own Bridget Jones's Diary.
Okay I wrote this when I was really, really, REALLY bored, so forgive me for my idiocy.
That stupid reindeer jumper.
It haunts me in my sleep.
The color of pine mixed with festive touches of holly reds and caribou's crap browns.
It wants sunlight, for someone to care for it
It wants to be thrown through the laundry
Surrounded by white undies and light pink socks
But alas it never shall, it will go through cold water with its equally dark brother- the black pants.
It was stuffed into a suitcase marked with the initials M.D.
The suitcase was tied to the top of the car when suddenly without warning it tumbles off.
The contents fly askew.
While the other clothes manage to make it to the curb the jumper does not.
It sits in the middle of the narrow road covered in dirt and snow next to a tube of toothpaste and a broken come.
It is night.
It becomes bright.
And then... BOOM!!! The sweater is run over by a car.
The End