A Ride Home

Tried to pull out of the parking lot; blocked by sudden flow of traffic. Stupid bitch cuts over just to block my lane. I hate all humans. Finally get out of lot, go to make U-Turn; blocked by sudden flow of traffic that I would have beat except for stupid lane blocking bitch. I no longer hate all humans: I hate her.

Behind a man in a late 80s brown car. We stop. He picks up a bottle of something and takes a swig. The bottle shape and liquid color register: it is a bottle of Listerine. He takes a swig; we begin moving. I wonder how he is going to get rid of the Listerine: it’s not exactly the kind of thing you can spit out the window. I think He looks like the kind of guy who swallows Listerine. We continue moving forward long enough that I am sure he must have swallowed it. I am wrong; when we stop, he opens his car door and pukes out a mouthful. I try not to stare at the cloud-blue puddle as I drive by. I think Okay, so he was just swishing for an unnaturally long time. Contemplate the kinds of behavior that should be punishable by death; consider adding public dental hygiene to the list. He lights up a cigarette before he turns off in front of me; I wonder what he was trying to cover up with the Listerine.

A cubby-looking guy with a muscle shirt and tattoos on each arm and leg is walking. Either he is not too bad looking, or I haven’t had sex since September. I haven’t had sex since September. How many days is that? Cars are stopped; try to come up with the perfect line. Realize I am trying to pick up strangers off the street. Take one last look and drive on.

Stop at a light. A boat has fallen off its trailer and smashed into the back of the truck that was pulling it. The truck guys are standing around, looking at the truck. They try to maneuver the boat back onto the trailer; they are white, with baseball caps sporting fishing logos. I don’t even grin as I pass by.

Two cars in front of me: one with a “Choose Life” license plate, one with a Jesus fish. Line at light is long; Choose Life ducks into what I call the fuckstick lane: people who go into this lane must immediately merge back into the traffic they just left because the lane runs out. Only fucksticks go into this lane because they want to get ahead of other people. I hope that people block Choose Life out, so that he is stuck on the side of the road like the fuckstick he is. When he is let in, I hope that there is a heaven, and that Choose Life gets there, so God can put a giant asshole on his forehead. Realize this makes me a self-righteous prick. Imagine what it would be like to have a giant dick on my forehead. Remember I am not going to heaven anyway. Smile a little at the perversity of someone who would presume to stand up as a model of “virtue” being a total fuckstick on the road, while I, the “immoral” one, does the right thing and stays in line like almost everyone else does. Realize that I am uniquely equipped to appreciate the perverse ironies of life. Smile.