It's a motorcycle that nearly flattens you

Just as you dash to the alley the roar reaches new heights and a motorcycle whips out. The rider sees you, fishtails to avoid you, and screeches to a halt.

"What the fuck are you doing running...." his voice trails off, and you stare at each other.

This guy definitely doesn't do a thing for the biker image, you think. He's so fat he might outweight his bike, and far too much of that is on display from his barely-on clothes. His jeans are open, showing purple polka dot boxers, while his massive, sweaty, and horribly hairy gut is jammed between him and the gas tank of his bike. without a helmet you can see that in spite of the long ragged hair he's nearly bald up top.

"Hey babe," he leers, and you blanch, stepping away from him.

A familiar bull-like voice carries down the alley like a foghorn, its words lost, but clearly pissed. Both of you stare down the alley with panicked looks.

"Hop on in front!" he urges, and you're torn between getting away from the cops or getting away from him.