Sandy stood up, not bothering to wipe the spit from his lips.  “I’ll go double-quick!” he exclaimed.

Then he threw up again.

An hour later, a Sheriff’s cruiser pulled into the driveway.  It wasn’t one of the deputized minions.  It was the Sheriff himself.  He held his hat in his hands, then said to all of them, “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this.  Sandy was struck by a truck.  He . . . passed away.  I’m truly sorry.”