That man said ‘puppy biscuit’!

And you know the story.

So when I let my mind wander into scenarios like Walter’s I eventually have to add a name to my character. Find a name that I think fits, weave the story. But I have to choose a name with care, for I don’t want to upset someone I know.
It’s easy here, I just make up nicknames. Like Danger Girl (yes, there is a hint of danger about her), or Coconut Girl(and her marvelous Magellanic features. Oh! Now there is a good new slang expression! Yeah yeah, Warty’s a pig.)

But I digress.

It’s hard enough keeping track of all my characters, so that I don’t reuse one. But real life has a way of intruding too.
There have been several times where I have met a new coworker and immediately realized that I now had to revise a short story because my character is not a nice person.

So even though I have plausible deniability about who I am here, I still need to watch what I say.
And pick and choose my names carefully, so no one I know gets upset.
--
‘Pocketa-pocketa-pocketa’ was the only sound he could hear, as he drove the little scooter along the interstate. He was lucky that he had packed it, just in case the car broke down.
‘Bastard car’, he thought. ‘Brand new out of the showroom in Boulder. And the damn radiator springs a leak!’
He knew it was just thirty miles to the next town. He had to get there before nightfall. For at night, the dogs came out and they would be hungry. The heavy automatic on his belt was good, better yet was the shotgun slung over his shoulders.

‘Damn bird Flu! Wipes out 98 percent of the people and now there is no one left to feed the dogs.’

In the next town, he knows he could find another car. That would get him to Kansas City and a new car.

His last words to Nancy were, “You know I would travel cross country to find you.’ And that phrase haunts him and drives him down the road.