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“That’s when you know you’ve found somebody really special: you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence.” ~Pulp Fiction

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Death by Snapple.

I already know how I'm going to die: a road-rage influenced accident/injury.

I have a serious problem with following the Golden Rule once behind the wheel...I've been in screaming matches with middle-aged men all look like they were runners up for America's Most Wanted, I've flipped off many an old person, and I honk my horn like Morse Code on the Titanic...but my absolute favorite road-rage antic is to slam on my brakes when I'm being tailgated.

Well, today was a perfect instance. This guy behind me was like, enema-close. He looked like Steve-O from Jackass so I was immediately repulsed and was on the freeway near semis in which I have a overbearing anxiety when I'm driving near them.

(Sidenote here: I am not a good driver. I mean, like, not even in the least bit. At this given point I was riding the fast lane just for the hell of it and eating my lunch. But, remember, you're on my side.)

So, I quickly slam on my brakes to give this gentleman a little heads up.

He got the message.

He quickly veered into the right lane and punched the gas. I pretended that I didn't give two shits about him and his childish driving-patterns so I just took a slug of my Snapple. But, once curiosity overwhelmed me, I glanced over just as he was passing me on the right-hand side.

He was furious...veins were exploding from his forehead as he made obscene eating gestures with his hands...and I could see the word "bitch" movie across his hideous lips in slow motion.

My reaction was a mixed bag at first. My face said if he was merely driving along listening to "The Secret" on audio tape. My brain instantly told me to swerve to the right and send us both over a bridge in a fiery angry mass both cussing each out as we burned/drowned. I could have screamed and flipped him off and screamed some more but that would have satisfied this piss ant.

So, I pulled out the big guns...

I burst out laughing.

His fury was insurmountable to any human beings ever. I'm pretty sure Michael Myers spent his life tickled a little more pink than this guy.

He quickly exited. More than likely to kick a dent in his 1994 Grand Am or play Russian Roulette with an innocent bystander...BUT, nonetheless, one of these days a victim of my no mercy road rage will have a gun or excellent life insurance and will kill me in a very, very violent way.

But, I have to admit, seeing that idiot's face twisted in fury might have made my painful death worth it.

1 comment:

Sanjrad said...

bahahahahaha. I love you. But as much enjoyment as you get out of your road rage, I don't want to read about your death in a blaze of glory in USA Today. So check yourself.