Angry Matt was on a long extended vacation… until today. I had a long day at work that more or less involved me fighting off swarms of angry fleas. Yes, fleas. Our studio is invested. The pest control guy has come out twice and each time he’s sprayed they’ve only gotten worse. So, I’m itchy, which makes me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m itchy. Then, to make matters worse, we have to take a bridal portrait outside, where the fleas live. You can imagine my joy. Add to this the fact that I came in at 9am, 2 HOURS sooner than our first appointment and far earlier than I was supposed to, after being told I needed to be there that early because we had a 9am appointment. I’ve also had NO coffee at this point. The day isn’t going well.
So, I leave work around 5:30, head towards the highway and prepare to fight rush hour traffic to get home. It’s at this point that a black Lexas 330-something cuts me off. Fine, I’m used to this, people in that neighborhood are more or less “gangsta” and really drive like fuck-wits. So I let it go. A few stop lights later, the black Lexas has gotten into a different lane and is now beside me. As that light turns green and I turn left to go onto the highway, the black Lexas shoots out, cuts me off and gets in front of me. As I feel myself getting angrier I think “it’s ok, maybe he doesn’t know where he’s going”. That thought is quickly forgotten. Being now at the top of the on ramp, he’s AGAIN gotten into the lane beside me. I got to the stop sign first, so, after cross-traffic passes, I go. Oh, but the Lexas has other ideas. Coming AGAIN from the lane beside me, he guns his car past mine ON THE SHOULDER of the on-ramp. I lay on the horn because, since it’s a one lane on-ramp, there’s really no room for the two of us. Then this fuck-wad has the nerve to slam on his breaks and German-Break me. I flew off the handle. I couldn’t take it anymore. Once, fine. Twice, ok. Cut me off THREE times and you’re going to die.
It was at this point I looked over and caught sight of this asshole. It wasn’t the mean, gun-packing gangsta’ I figured it would be. No, instead it was a 40-ish, white collared, suburbanite, white bread fuck face on his cell phone.
I considered, all be it only for a second, plowing my car into his and pushing him off the road. That thought actually crossed my mind. So did following him to wherever he was going and beating the ever living shit out of him.
But I didn’t.
I did what any other good New England trained driver would. I got along beside him, rolled down my window and yelled at him. I can’t really remember what I said but I think some of it involved taking his life with my shoe. Or at least cramming it into the deep recesses of his rectum.
It took me a few minutes to calm down after that. Thankfully it was rush hour so I had plenty of time to sit and stew in traffic.
Not that big, think they’re tough gangster types get some sort of free pass to be assholes, but it’s more expected from them. I don’t really expect that sort of driving from a pompous middle aged cracker. Wait, yeah I kinda do.
You know what, fuck’em. Fuck’em all. All you Lexas, Audi, Jaguar driving mother-fuckers deserve to die. Sometimes I really wish I was in charge of things, because then, these scum would be hunted down and thumped with an iron fist of common decency. Just because you drive what you think is a nice car doesn’t give you open range to be a raging asshole on the road. So, now it’s official. I’ve declared war on these people. These butt-logs with legs.
Die!
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