A Hairy, Scary Weekend

Early Saturday morning after a late night out with my friend CJ, I drove to my sister's house for a haircut (A trim, really, but it was nice to get a break from my Cousin It bangs). I noticed as I put things in my car that the night before I'd run over a lizard. His back-end was under my tire, and his face was frozen in pain. It was pretty nasty, and I felt bad. I didn't do it on purpose, of course, but that's kind of what he gets for chillin' in my garage.
I swept his remains out the door and tried to justify my ambivalence. I knew I should feel guilty for killing one of God's creatures, but I was mostly grossed out. So imagine my surprise when I drove west away from the rising sun to see the word "death" appear on my foggy rear-view mirror. It looked like it had been scratched in with someone's fingernail, but it was surely not my imagination.
But I don't believe it was the ghost of my little lizard, so I just had my car washed and hope they cleaned the mirror.