OK, this one is killing me. It’s 7:00 am. The freeway is jammed because somebody crashed going North, on the same freeway I happen to be driving on. Traffic is backed up, people are getting pissed. It must have been a big wreck….yup, its sure was. The problem I have with all this shit is that WE ARE DRIVING SOUTH. The other way. Nobody crashed in our lanes. Everybody is fine over here. The cops are all over there, so why the hell aren’t we hauling ass? Oh no, we have to look, stare, try to see, yak back and forth on our f–king cell phones while we try to see….talking to somebody, telling them “how bad traffic is this morning”… The traffic would not exist if you morons would just drive and leave the stop and stare BS to the other side of the road. At least they can see something. Did I forget to mention that there is a great big cement wall between us and them? The kind you can’t see through, just barely peek over the top….if your in a tractor/trailer rig.
Now all of that has nothing to do with the topic o the day except it sets the stage. Remember its never the fall but the sudden stop that hurts. Anyway some folks were saving gas this morning, they were riding a scooter. When I say folks I mean two and when I say scooter I mean one. Some people are so damn stupid they should wear helmets, all day, on or off the scooter.
I carry a camera everywhere I go for occasions such as these. However, when opportunity knocked this morning the damn thing was somewhere deep up under my dash, smashed into that position because I had just laid down 40 feet of rubber and spilled a macho grande starbucks on my balls. That was my reward for missing the morons on the scooter. AS if this wasn’t enough, the two hells angles in front of me came right out of a circus. The one riding bitch had 10 asses, 9 of which had totally engulfed the seat. The pilot was about 85 pounds and hunkered over the bars with her chin damn near on the headlight. The fact that I drive a big, I mean big, diesel eating, gross polluting 4×4 on stilts was not even on their radar.
Communication is a wonderful thing but its best left to those who are evolved enough to use language. The two clowns in front of me had a system of communication that defied even my weird imagination. Fatty would twist and look behind and then smack bones on the side to which she thought they should turn. Bones would then turn the opposite way of the slap. Fatty would then slap again and yell “GO RIGHT” while slapping Bone’s left side. Dealing with them was like that dance you do in the grocery strore when you meet some idoit in an asile that can’t commit to go either way but instead just does the little shuffle in front of you…except i am in my truck and they are on a scooter, and I’ll be damned if we ain’t trying to go the same stinkin direction.
Remember the wreck? This pair of clowns is what I have in front of me, coffee is what I am about to get all over me. Fatty wacks bones on the left side trying to tell her about the wreck, Bones turns right, Fatty wacks right, Bones slips left, Fatty wacks again and Bones turns around to scream about the quality of the signals. Scooters bounce I guess. Because the last thing I saw before I damn near passed out from a pair of scalded balls was that scooter pinging off of the three cars around me like a pinball. At that point my balls were still fine and this was good entertainment. The part that got me and saved them, was this little tiny ray of red light peeping out from under Fatty’s ass. Instinct I guess, red lights no matter how small, make you jam the brake.
Do they know how close to death they were? Hell no. In a cloud of burning rubber, screaming from the burning pain I watch them keep driving down the line between the cars.
Oh yeah, one more thing. I can think of only one person who was even remotely happy to have been screwed this morning by the scooter riding freaks. This would be the feller who stuffed his hood under the back bumper of my truck. I couldn’t give two dead flys at the moment due to the fact that my happy sack was still on fire and fire was making a run towards my back porch. When he appears at my window, his face turns ashen, he thinks he’s at fault for the look of pain on my face. I am a decent dude, a damn prince of a man come to think of it. I don’t give a crap about being rear ended, its all I can do to snarl out that I’m leaving now and if your car is stuck up my ass you can have it back when it falls out. He just looks at me with his mouth hanging open. It hung open for about 30 yards, and so did his car.
And may I ask, how was your morning?
Snakecharmer
