Marsha quietly pulled the ignition key from the truck out of the trailer door lock, then switched keys and demonstrated that the lock was working perfectly well. “Looks like it works fine to me,” she said, as she threw the keys to him.

Bill tried to catch them but missed. Reaching for the keys which dropped to the floor, he almost fell out of the chair.

“You're pathetic,” Marsha said, heading for the kitchen.

“You shut up! I had a hard day, and I don't need to put up with this when I come home. Bring me a beer.”

“Hard day? Is the stress of taco making too much for you, or did you get fired again?”

“Shut up woman! You don't know what you're talking about.” Bill's anger surged, as he realized everything was falling apart just as he'd feared.

Marsha stomped back into the room and stared him in the eyes. “I don't know what I'm talking about? Well, I do know you're a loser and a drunk, who can't even hold down a job making tacos.”

This derisive statement was more than Bill could take. On the second try, he managed to get to his feet and screamed, “You'll never talk to me like that again!”

With one hand, he shoved her backward. She stumbled back and fell onto a small table which held a potted plant and both the plant and table were crushed under her weight. Bill didn't wait to see if she got up, or hear the familiar threat to call the cops. He yanked the front door open, ripping the top hinge from the wall as he did and stormed out of the trailer.

After starting the engine he stomped the gas, and the truck shot forward and crashed through the two garbage cans before continuing into the backyard. Amazingly, Bill managed to get the truck stopped, put it in reverse and stomped the accelerator. The tires spun before the truck rocketed backward, leaving deep trenches carved in the dirt and only just missed hitting the trailer. The neighbor's mailbox wasn't as fortunate and got flattened as the vehicle made it out of the driveway and onto the dirt road. Bill slammed on the brakes, got the truck back into drive, and headed down the road as fast as he could.

By the time he got to the end of the dirt road, there were already two calls made to the local police department.

The dirt road intersected with a single lane paved road and Bill managed to keep the truck on the road when he made the turn. The radio was blasting, and Bill couldn't even hear the noise of the engine over the loud country music.