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Your Instagram Posse

Hello, who’s that there? Isn’t this how it usually begins: lonely girl picks up suspiciously good looking hitchhiker. Hitchhiker turns about to be strong, tender and supportive. Your Instagram-posse will freak out - God yeah! - when this bronzed white-toothed giant comes in the picture. Then again, isn’t this how it usually ends: lonely girl picks up random stranger and is found raped, slashed and tossed into the trunk. How naive, you just can’t leave your Instagram-posse behind. Holy shit! He is hot. Creeps aren’t hot. Stop the car. Stop the car. Stop the car. “Need a ride, mister?” You try your best to make the mister sound cool. He slides into the passenger seat. Floor it girl. “So where are you going?” Enough with the mister already. A week old beard covers his chiseled unmoving jaw. His silence is freaking you out. No seatbelt. You slam the brakes.

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