I was driving in the desert

I was driving in the desert in my 1989 Jeep Wrangler.

I was going for a drive in the vast, dry deserts of Nevada.

I had just gotten in a fight with my wife, and yes, I might have had a little too much to drink and a little too poor a sense of direction to be doing what I was doing.

Cacti and tumbleweeds blurred past me as I tried my best to ignore the clunking sound coming out from under the old Wrangler’s hood.

One stretch of road blended into the next. As the road got bumpier, I realized I wasn’t even on a road after all, but rather wandering the desert on an uncharted course.

SLORTCH! A sickening crunch sent me and my battered mount spiraling and screeching over the coarse, sandy dunes. Sand got everywhere.

The Jeep rammed into a dune with a THUD and I blacked out.

“FOOL OF A CROOK!” I heard in a thunderous voice. I looked around, panicked.

My legs were caught under some Jeep guts that had spilled all over me.

I couldn’t move. “Are all you humans this stupid, or are you an extra rare shiny specimen?”

“What?! Who’s there? What’s going on?” was all I could spew from my confused mouth.

“I am  though those of your kind often call me Nathaniel. Do you not know what you nearly crashed into?”

Still looking around, I shrugged. “A wedding party?” I offered. Out of the corner of my eye, a slimy silver snake slithered silently into view.

“Ahem. Do you see any extravagant mate pairings in the vicinity? You’re hardly doing anyone any favor.”