<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/WW6x8.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:  Elizabeth Goetz<br/><strong>Time</strong>:  Saturday Night<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Goetz Family Home<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>:  Tristyn<br/><br/>The sound and feel of the car were so different than from what Elizabeth was used to.  There was no barely perceptible hum of the engine and the road.  Several hundred angry American horses ran free under the hood and she felt the thunder of their feet in her bottom.  It was loud too, like a motorcycle only deeper.  It was also oddly exciting.<br/><strong><br/>"Daddy is a sweetheart,"</strong>she said and smoothed her skirt down to the tops of her thighs.<strong>"He wouldn't hurt you, but you don't want to ever get bawled out by him.  He can make me feel so little when I mess up, and like I'd do anything to not disappoint him again.  Mommy likes you, so she'll keep Daddy from being too obnoxious to you."</strong>When they made a corner, the dog tags swung her way and she reached up to still them.  They felt like they were old, had been worn close to someone for a while, and she ran her fingers across the embossed lettering.  It was too bumpy in the car to read them.<br/><br/>He didn't have a plan?<br/><br/><strong>"Um, well we could go see a movie,"</strong>boring!,<strong> "or get something to eat" </strong>boringer!<strong>"but you know what would be really fun?" </strong>She let go of the dog tags, causing them to start swinging again.  "<strong>Let's go to Keith and Margo's.  They do this really cool live Murder Mystery Theater.  You go in, and then it's like Pulp Fiction or something while you're in the middle of eating then you have to help solve the mystery.  And you don't know who in the restaurant is an actor and who's not.  Mr. Golden told me about it and said he went there a few weeks ago."</strong><br/>