I got to the hospital and retracted my feet wheels. I hoped Ed was okay.
I dramatically pushed past doctors and nurses to get to his room, to see him sleeping in his hospital bed. "Ed!" I screamed, trying to wake him up. "ED!" There was no answer. The sweaty doctor came in, out of breath and said, "sorry, but he's dead."
My eyes went blurry and I started feeling dizzy. I had to get out of the hospital. I ran down the hall and rolled away on the side of the road. On my journey I found a motel and decided to break into one of the rooms. This would be my new home from now on.
I tried to take a shower but the horrible stench of poop and death stuck to me. So I tried to sleep. How could I sleep? I killed Ed. My hot teacher, Ed was dead.
What will I do? I thought. I committed homicide, all because he broke my kneecaps. Sure, he had no excuse for that, but I didn't care! Ed was the love of my life and I had killed him. Suddenly I sat up and looked out of the dusty motel window.
It was Ed.