THE DRIVE HOME

I circled the house through the darkness as quickly as a respect for stealth would allow. I certainly didn't want to attract Glore's assailant if it was around. My nerves, I must admit, were more than a little frayed. A co-worker was dead, killed by a supernatural horror. I had encountered the undead. And I had to figure out what I was going to out into my report that wouldn't get me booted out to the galactic rim.
My car was still sitting in the driveway and seeing it helped restore my sense of normalcy. It's material solidity was like an anchor, returning me to the core of myself. I opened the door and tossed Glore's stuff into the back, then got into the driver's seat. Shutting the door behind me, I felt like I had returned to the real world after an ill fated expedition into a monkey boy fantasy film.
I was safe.
I had every confidence that nothing could get to me here. The car's dymetal exterior, virtually indestructible, and advanced weaponry systems were, I was sure, capable of repelling any physical assault, whether by werebeast, vampire, or other nocturnal horror. I took a deep breath and relaxed.
Oh, yeah, almost forgot. I locked the door.
I engaged the autodrive and sank back in the seat. I had a million things to ponder, but no will do to so now. I decided to turn on the radio.
When I need a little music, what do I get? The news. I was about to change channels, but the story nibbled at me before I reached the dial. Seems the Congress was at it again. With millions of illegal aliens (if they only knew--heh! heh!) had already entrenched themselves in the United States. Thousands more seemed to be coming daily. The Senate and House had each passed radically different pieces of legislatures to inadequately (my assumption) address the issue. As a result nothing was getting done.
I shook my head in pity for these people. It's common knowledge, even amidst monkey boys. that nothing much ever gets accomplished by a committee. And what does materialize is usually the result of hard fought compromises, doing little more that insuring that everyone is unhappy with the final product.
So what do the apes do in the most advanced nation on the planet? They set up a government where laws require passage not by one, but by two giant committes. This can only guarantee that too many cooks will eventually cook everyone's goose, I think.
My thoughts had returned me to my usual analytical mindset and I was feeling like my old self as the car pulled into my drive. I grabbed Glore's stuff, exited my vehicle and returned to my suite. I plopped into the cushy chair in front of the tv and began to ponder the implications of everything that had transpired tonight.
And inside two minutes I was fast asleep