The Home Game Sucks

Julia's fingers clenched on the steering wheel, teeth grinding against one another as her nemesis crossed the street.  She hadn't seen Marcy since the end of the game show, since that fake hug the producers made them share as the end credits ran.  Time slowed, crystalized, stopped for just a moment.  Her eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she ran down three separate courses of action in her mind.  One, drive right at her and put the scare of a lifetime in that bitch Marcy.  Two, drive right at her and fling the driver's side door open; give that bitch a taste of door number one.  And then option three, well option three was a no-brainer and a felony.  Even enraged, Julia knew that she couldn't run her over.  She just couldn't.  But then the show, the final round of that goddamned game show replayed behind her eyes and Julia heard herself hissing to nobody "You bitch, you cheat, that should have been mine, that was my prize you fucking bitch,  I ought to kill you you fucking sneak cheat," and then her foot had the pedal to the floor and she saw the light was red and she thought to herself I'll just tell them it was green, and she was disappointed that she didn't get to see the look in Marcy's eyes before she ran her down.