You were such a sweet kid, but in many ways, so very...I can't say dumb, I just can't bring myself to say it. So let's go with the descriptor I used in the title: simple. Maybe that's even worse, even more condescending of me, but fuck it.
One night, I was driving us somewhere in my truck. We were in the city, but not in a well lit part. The only light to see by came from the moon above and my truck's headlights. We came across an animal laying in the road, a possum. Ugly bastard. We sat and looked at it for a second, and it at us. It looked like it might be hurt, but we couldn't be sure. He moved like he was, but then again maybe not. I steered around him and we went on our way. A minute later, you started freaking out.
We have to go back!
You couldn't stand the thought that some creature was walking God's green earth in pain and suffering, and that there was something we could do about it. You wanted us to do what you thought was the right thing. You wanted us to go back there and put that poor animal out of its misery. How exactly you planned to do this was not made clear. You begged and pleaded and prodded and poked and you wouldn't let it go. From absolutely ANYONE ELSE, these pleas would have fallen on deaf ears, but from you, sweet innocent simple Mark, who just wanted to help a suffering animal, my resolved withered. I wheeled the truck around and drove back. But it must've been my lucky night because that ugly fucker was gone.
So, uh, had it been there, what was the plan? Or was I supposed to think up that part?