white bitch

Posted: December 22, 2010 in otiose
Tags: , , , , , ,

I was about to be late

with the puppies

because I was trying to help the new girl
that wasn’t feeling well.
I don’t like her, but…that’s irrelevant.

There were four lanes, and the car in front of me in the far left was going too slow.
Anybody recall those signs that state “Slower Traffic Keep Right”?
The car in front of me must have been exempt and also apparently didn’t want to get passed by a little blue Toyota.
Tough shit.
I cut it off.

Yes, I did. Unapologetically.

I have become an aggressive, downright ruthless driver.
It’s necessary here.
Grow up.
Learn how to drive.

I get cut off every fucking day.
I grumble for five seconds, and then I carry on…because it happens
every
fucking
day.
I have more important things to care about than whether I just got cut off or not.

Don’t drive city traffic if you live in a goddamned happy bubble.

I cut this car off, and the driver decided to follow me for a full five minutes
right into the parking lot of my final destination.

I got out of my car and continued with my day as best I could
while she verbally accosted me with needlessly racist remarks
threatened me
and retreated to the safety of her car like the whiny little girl she was when I turned and faced her
with kennels in my hands

because I can hold my own.

I can win a battle of wits
can flounder my way through most legalities
and I have a running chance with most physical confrontations.

Yes, I cut you off.
What would you like me to do about it?
Her answer came in threats.
Great.
Yes.
Fine.
This is accomplishing a lot.
Do you feel better now?
You were driving like an asshole, and so was I.
You can’t…What’s the matter with you?
How many people did you cut off to spit your little fire while running back into your car when I didn’t even hesitate to get out?
Is that showing the kind of concern I’m supposed to have for your baby in the car?
Grow the fuck up.
I’m not fucking afraid of you.
Next time, bring your gun and your husband and your baby and we’ll put on an improvisational musical drama in the streets, so that everyone can see how amazing your are…but right now…

“You need to get out of my way,” was my response.

I was about to be late, you see. Late with the puppies.

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