Every time I drive by, the shattered headboard is still there in the gully, a little more faded but still recognizable. And since it’s the start of a long, boring drive, I’m always spitballing theories about how it would up there.

Obviously it could have fallen off a truck, one destined for the university most likely. Someone moving in or out, possibly shattered before it was ditched if the rumors about campus life are anything to go by.

Of course the natural dirty scenario also presents itself. Surely the shattered bed frame landed there after being launched like a Saturn V during a bout of particularly eaves-rattling fucking in the nearby farmhouse, right? Har har har.

My preferred theory is that it’s the remains of one of those magical flying beds. We only hear about the successful flights, after all, never the crashes.

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