“Get in,” said Jeff, rocking the shopping cart.
Quentin gulped. “That’s steep.”
Downhill, Martin shouted, “Yo, chicken shit!” He removed his shirt, waggling it matador-style.
Quentin growled, “Douchebag.”
“C’mon pussy!” called Martin.
Huffing, Quentin climbed in the cart.
Jeff handed him two screwdrivers. “Your horns.” Then he kicked the cart.
Quentin lurched. The cart careered downhill.
Martin swept his cape.
The cart juddered. Screaming, Quentin clenched the screwdrivers.
The cart hit a pothole. Quentin flew.
Martin’s cackles stopped with an “Oof!”
Quentin rolled off Martin, who gurgled, a screwdriver piercing his heart.
Quentin whispered, “Don’t die.”
Obliviously, Jeff shouted, “Olé!”