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Last week I was walking through the car park at the gym, when I heard bells jangling. 'Ooh, Santa', I thought, so I turned around to try to see him. I was still walking quite fast, when...

*Thud*

I felt my foot hit against something, with quite some force. I looked down.

Under my feet was the cutest kitten you have ever seen. Well, very young cat, but for all intents and purposes, I had just kicked a kitten. Hard. It must have jangled its way from between the parked cars, straight into my swinging foot. It was slightly startled, mewed at me, and ran off into the middle of the car park with its jangly collar. It stopped, turned round, gave me a dirty look and then jangled off again.

I couldn't see it when I came out of the gym later. Had I broken it? Did I crack its ribs? Was it now bleeding internally, collapsed under a hedge, cursing me with its dying breaths? Perhaps I shall never know.

Oh, and then while driving home I cut up a fully laden hearse, complete with mourner cars following in procession.

I'm going to hell.