I was walking home from dinner. Apparently, my presence disturbed a yellow street cat, which, convinced that I was about to tear it to shreds, ran out into the street and directly under an oncoming motorbike. Now THAT'S falling out of the frying pan.
The moto driver slammed on his breaks, but still ran over it. Twice. The cat just kept running. Never have I experienced such a strange combination of horror, humor, and sadism. I probably shouldn't laugh, but it looked fairly ridiculous.
And that, children, is why you don't run into the street in a panic, and why you look both ways if you do.
*I refuse to accept any karmic responsibility for that cat's life or death.
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