Suicide A La Roadkill

Don't worry. Despite the title this story isn't gross. It's not gory. No blood. No entrails. No random teeth strewn about the roadway. Dispatch sent us on our merry little goose chase by telling us that someone had called a state patrol officer via phone to report a "skinny white man" laying down the white stripe of the side of the road "attempting to commit suicide". I'm guessing that laying perpendicular to the flow of traffic might have upped his odds of leaving a greasy spot in the road just a smidgen. We headed for the intersection- a desolate country back road off a lonely country highway- and I couldn't help but giggle at the blank stares a cow gave as we drove by.

We checked said intersection, but found no "skinny white men" laying on the white line. The only object of interest on the side of the road was a mound of fur and a half of a jawbone, bleached from the sun. I'm guessing it used to be an opossum. (or is it "a possum"? I am south of the Mason-Dixon line, so not sure how to be grammatically correct here.) In either case it was unrecognizable.

We headed back for our station and passed a bridge near the landfill, where a young man was laying on the sidewalk. He had his ball cap pulled over his eyes, hands crossed on his belly, and appeared to be taking a siesta. He sat up when the cops gave a little warning chirp with their siren. Apparently he just needed a nap, and had decided that lonely country highway was the perfect spot for his slumber. He was young- maybe 18 or 20, and had a tee shirt six sizes too big on his torso. His lower half was garnished with long baggy basketball shorts at least ten sizes too big. They hung down to his ankles and drooped off his hips, showing his boxers. A price tag dangled from his baseball cap, that was tilted at an angle, thug style. I guess that's how we roll here in cow country.