Spam

The radio bleeped into life "sorry" said control "I know you're nearly finished but we're getting some calls from the Motorway, initially we thought a cow had wandered onto the carriageway but now we think it might be a person...please could you have a look?" Er...thanks for the offer control but no, I don't really fancy this one. I've been to people that have been hit by fast cars and my gut feeling was that there was nothing more to be done. "Yup roger, will update you from scene" so off I pootled. The police had beaten me to it (thankfully) and closed the road I got out and put my gloves and jacket on. "You'll just need a torch" a gruff policeman said as I got mine out the back "oh and you might want to stay in my footprints literally" he said as I took giant steps before giving up and making my own footprints. Traffic was still moving on the opposite side of the carriageway as we walked close to the central reservation. Suddenly the air turned acrid, like a dodgy butchers shop. "Looks like the initial impact was here" as we pointed our torches to a pool of blood on one lane. As we walked further along there was tissue and other unidentifiable bits along the way. "This is where they ended up" the copper said matter of factly. I looked down and cocked my head slightly as much as I tried to make anything out, I couldn't. It looked like a lump of spam, opened on the road and spat out of its tin. A black Nike trainer stuck out from the side.
About 20 cars and lorries had hit and run this person over, I couldn't tell if they were a man, woman or god forbid, a child. The only thing I could work out was they had one intact foot with a trainer on it, nothing else.
I updated control and completed a very sparsely filled in confirmation of death form. I left to the sounds of the gruff, tall copper puking behind his car.