Okay, so first G-Funk is my car. It is so named because it used to be my grandparents' car, but after my grandpa passed away they were going to sell it back to the dealer, because my grandma can't drive. But at that time I had a little white ford escort named Lewis, and a new car wouldn't have hurt. So I took over car payments of the car and named it G-Funk... which could be because it's a gold ford taurus (supposedly, more of a beige, really) so it could be Gold Funk... but really it stands for Grandpa Funk, because he was definitely a funky grandpa.
Anyway, I was bored and so I was driving G-Funk around last night and was on my way back from a drive to the podunk town from last night when all of the sudden a raccoon ambles out into the road. Now, I did NOT maliciously aim G-Funk at the enlarged rodent, in fact (you would have laughed if you were there, and those of you who have spent time with me can probably imagine me doing this) I swerved my car to the left, leaned over to the left in my seat, lifted my legs off of the ground and screamed two short bursts like this: "Aaaah! Aaaah!" and then WUBTHUMP!! G-Funk had made his kill.
Really, it was neither my fault nor G-Funk's fault. It was that stupid raccoon for thinking that was the right time for a jaunt across the road. And although there is some remorse at the thought of ending the life of a living thing, the darn raccoon asked for it.