Harry frantically dialed the numbers on his cell-phone like a baby mashing buttons on a toy, all the while swerving about the road like an escaped convict who’d just acquired a vehicle.  His veins were pulsing, his eyes frantically smashing themselves into the sides of his temples looking for reasons as to why it happened.  Luckily for Harry, none of the usual beer-gutted traffic cops had taken the time to wake up and pull him over for doing 80 in a 50 zone.

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