When Andy’s parents kicked him out, he thought his life was over. All of his clothes, books, and miscellaneous belongings were gone in the blink of an eye, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was gay! If his mother couldn’t see it, he had no other option than to leave. So, there he sat. On a bridge in San Bernardino, trying to hitchhike. Some complete asshole chucked a blue icee out of their Camaro, smacking him right in the forehead, and splattering the cold blue liquid all over his face. Andy sat against the balustrade, defeated, dejected, and all-around depressed. Standing up, he looked over the side of the bridge at the rushing traffic. A single leap and the pain wouldn’t matter anymore. The sadness wouldn’t matter. He climbed up onto the ledge, standing inches away from the eternal darkness. That’s when he heard the screeching of tires behind him on the road. A motorcycle, a chopper, had come to a screeching halt on the otherwise derelict bridge. The rider kicked the