Dead Man

I hit the man with my car. Not on purpose, I swear. I stopped immediately, drew up at the side of the empty road, and called the police. The man was dead.

While I waited for the police to arrive, the man and I had a little chat.

“I’m not drunk,” I said. “It was a purer accident because of this. You wouldn’t want to have been senselessly slaughtered, would you?”

“Thank you,” he said. “It makes me feel better.”

“I was just looking for something in the glove box,” I said.

“I was taking a walk,” the man said. “I was thinking about my daughter’s school fees when you hit me. She might have to drop out now.”

“I’m sorry. I have a daughter too. She is going to go off to college soon.”

“You must be very proud.”

The police arrived, and I told them what had happened. They asked me to come with them to the station to make a report.

“I’m going away now,” I said to the man. “Let’s see how it goes. This is goodbye, I guess.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” he said. “I’m coming with you.”