“Oh wow,” were Dr. Eggs Benedict’s final words after realizing the ketchup stain on his shirt began to gush blood. It was one of those stray bullets from a highway drive by. What were the odds of it hitting the stain? Seriously. Instinctively, he turned up the radio.
The old Mercedes careened off the highway, onto the road below, and straight into the wall of a hospital. The car exploded on impact. A bystander noted, “So close.”
Within twenty minutes, the news trucks arrived just before the police and fire department. Pandemonium looked like this: a spreading fire needing to be contained before it reached the other cars, a hungry police officer hallucinating, seeing every thin person as a hot dog with clothes on, and everyone else irregular sausages, a reporter running with her head on fire, PRO TIP: never use hair spray near an open flame, congregating protesters thinking this is the scene that will get the most media exposure, the brave firemen debating loudly over whether or not they need a trampoline.
Depending on your definition of eventually, things returned to as normal as normal could be in the 21st century.
THE MOMENT OF IRONY: It turns out that Dr. Benedict had just invented a cure for skin cancer and was on his way to the lab to write it down, and the shooter would later die from, you guessed it, pneumonia.