It's the little things that piss this pony off. I'm driving home tonight and I finally get to my exit. This car pulls up behind me as I am waiting for the light to turn. This guy is so close to my bumper I can make out what he looks like and it isn't good. He has hair parted deep on one side, the rest combed over perfectly, probably gelled, I would guess. He has a Zorro style mustache and big thick glasses. He is wearing a suit and tie and his posture is completely erect. I thought, wow, he is the vision of who you would buy a used car or appliance from. Either that or he is an accountant. No offense if anyone reading this is either of those occupations.
Anyway, Poindexter in his little red Jetta decides that he needs to ride my ass. All the way home. I know ponies that have been ridden less. And if he was going to ride my ass like that, at least he could do is pull my hair, right? It didn't matter that it is below freezing and that the road could be icy. It didn't matter that I was going above the speed limit. It isn't like I was white-knuckling it at 33mph in a 35. I was going fast enough to be making time, but not so fast as to attract attention from Officer Friendly if he happened to be lurking somewhere. I flipped my rearview mirror up and tried to ignore him, but that little nerd-bastard could not be shaken. I'd like to shake him...like shaken baby syndrome style. I considered slamming on my breaks, maybe even tapping them. But then I remembered, I just paid this little truck off. Let's not borrow trouble and chance it on getting rear-ended and have to call the fuzz. "But Officer, there was a squirrel...what was I supposed to do, hit him?!"
Poindexter followed me all the way to my driveway. As I turned in, he sped on by. I can just picture what the hurry is all about. I'm sure he needs to hurry home, feed the cat, take off his suit, which reveals a Hanes His Way t-shirt (tagless) and Superman underoos, both items loosely covering his pasty white skeleton like body. He hurries to heat up some Spagetti-O's and his pour some milk. He sets it up on his TV tray and gets out his World of Warcraft and spends the night playing video games. He'll sleep on the couch, get up in the morning, not shower and put on the same suit. I know it. I just know it.
I just want it to go on record, if Poindexter rams his Jetta up my Dakota's ass again, someone better have an airbag....and insurance.
Anyway, Poindexter in his little red Jetta decides that he needs to ride my ass. All the way home. I know ponies that have been ridden less. And if he was going to ride my ass like that, at least he could do is pull my hair, right? It didn't matter that it is below freezing and that the road could be icy. It didn't matter that I was going above the speed limit. It isn't like I was white-knuckling it at 33mph in a 35. I was going fast enough to be making time, but not so fast as to attract attention from Officer Friendly if he happened to be lurking somewhere. I flipped my rearview mirror up and tried to ignore him, but that little nerd-bastard could not be shaken. I'd like to shake him...like shaken baby syndrome style. I considered slamming on my breaks, maybe even tapping them. But then I remembered, I just paid this little truck off. Let's not borrow trouble and chance it on getting rear-ended and have to call the fuzz. "But Officer, there was a squirrel...what was I supposed to do, hit him?!"
Poindexter followed me all the way to my driveway. As I turned in, he sped on by. I can just picture what the hurry is all about. I'm sure he needs to hurry home, feed the cat, take off his suit, which reveals a Hanes His Way t-shirt (tagless) and Superman underoos, both items loosely covering his pasty white skeleton like body. He hurries to heat up some Spagetti-O's and his pour some milk. He sets it up on his TV tray and gets out his World of Warcraft and spends the night playing video games. He'll sleep on the couch, get up in the morning, not shower and put on the same suit. I know it. I just know it.
I just want it to go on record, if Poindexter rams his Jetta up my Dakota's ass again, someone better have an airbag....and insurance.
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