Alright, let's just calm down, okay? I think he's still breathing. We can do this. I know it's crazy, but we can figure this out. I'm just gonna think for, like, two seconds. Don't snap at me, asshole! I need two fucking seconds to think of a plan. Now shut up! … Okay. Wow. Alright, yeah. I'm trying to think of the best way to handle this. In the meantime, let's just stay calm. We can figure out a plan.

Here's the first idea. We pull up, like, a block away from the hospital. We drag his body to where all the ambulances are parked, then we run like hell. Chances are there won't be anybody around, but someone is bound to see him there eventually. Probably no one's gonna see us, but on our way there we could very quickly stop at Dick's Sporting Goods in Amherst and pick up some ski masks. Problem solved.

Or here's a quick alternate solution. My friend Andrew is a doctor and he's cool. I mean, he'll understand that this was an accident. I think we can trust him. We pledged together in college, so if I say to him, “Andrew, by the sacred nature of the Alpha Epsilon pledge bible, you must not breath a word of this to anyone,” I know he'd never tell. Andrew could at least stop all the bleeding from his head better than my shirt can.

Hey, fuck you! I wasn't texting while I was driving! I was looking up the directions on my iPhone's map — you were the one blasting that fucking German death techno at the loudest volume possible. This is as much your fault as it is mine! Fuck, look, we don't even have time for this now. We can play the blame game later — and we should — but right now we've got to decide what to do with this guy.

So, let's just remain calm. I agree, let's not bring Andrew into this, even though he's a brother and I'd trust him with my life. Let's get him into the backseat, stop off at Dick's, then dump him at the hospital. Problem solved. Wait. Shit, dude. He just stopped breathing.

…

Fuck it, let's go. Into the car. Move it!