The car now almost upon you
gathered great speed. With a five score of feet to go for you on foot, the car
had but seven speeding its tires toward you three. In ten seconds it was riding
its giant, messy tires over your feet. In two more, it was ahead of you three,
now with bloody tires. The witch cackled wildly, as she looked upon your
grotesque corpses, bleeding and gushing forth the vital fluids. How sad! You
died yelling as the car rode over your body, denaturing it, with its steel self.
You got 32 end points.