Honkee

    Fuck.  Or as my beloved Welsh/Canadian/Minnesotan grandmother would've said in her heavy Minnesota accent, OOFTAH!  Say what you want about shit like Prozac but it sure keeps me from focusing on the futility of existence, a bitter, sad and cynical realistic philosophy or worldview or whatever you wanna call it that constantly taps at my conciousness.  At least it's not kicking my brain in.  Still...

What a stupid fuckin world.

A couple of weeks ago I was driving the work truck and had to hit the brakes.  A big machine in the back of my truck flipped forward and landed upside down, probably spilling gas all over the bed of the goddam truck.  Great.  I started looking around for a place to pull over once the light turned green so I could deal with it.  The light turned green, I went, the fuckin machine uprighted itself and then tipped over backward and knocked the tailgate open.  At that point it was hanging precariously on the tailgate and I said "fuck it", put the truck in park and jumped out to fix it.  This was gonna be a 10 or 15 second event.

The crowd went wild.

I had fuckers honking and shouting outta their cars at me.  A couple of kids drove by and flipped me off, hollering whatever they were hollering.  I'm not a badass but I always feel like one whenever crap like that's going on, figuring I'll beat the fuck outta whoever wants to pull over and yell at me.  They don't know I'm not a brawler or a goddam psycho or something.  Fuck em.  For all they know, I might've killed a bunch of guys in prison for yelling at me for holding up the line in the chow hall.  Nobody missed the light except me.  Oh well. 

Oh yeah, and the phone number for the company I work for is emblazoned on the side of the truck, so if I really piss anybody off they can call and complain.  Then again, they can kiss my ass cos it doesn't really matter.  Still, I like the drama to stay at a dull throb.

Then last week, I was pulling up to a busy intersection and some oblivious little moron of a dog was running amok in the middle of the street.  Jesus.  If you're gonna teach your dog anything, teach it not to do shit like that.  Even if it's an idiot.  If the dog's too fuckin stupid then it's probably gonna have a short life.  I saw a little boy on the corner calling the dog.  He was probably 6 or 7, a scuzzy little fucker wearing only cutoff jeans, the kinda kid the NO SHOES NO SHIRT NO SERVICE sign is talking to. 

Supressing my Darwinist phlosophies, I decided to rescue the stupid little Benji-looking dipshit that was chasing his tail in front of a bunch of garbage trucks and buses at rush hour.  Time was of the essence.  I threw her in park and got out and went for the dog.  The kid was doing a good job of not being a 6 year old who runs out in the middle of an insane intersection.  It suddenly occured to me that Benji might not be too cool with some dude walking up and grabbing him.  I mean, I could've kicked Benji's ass but that's not why I was getting outta the truck.  Like the cop in the Police Academy movie that shoots the cat to get it outta the tree, or when Dirty Harry pulls the guy who's threatening to jump off the ledge through the window into the apartment and beats the shit outta him. 

Nope.  That wasn't my plan.

Benji didn't like me very much but he didn't wanna get beat up.  Again, he has no way of knowing whether or not I'm a psycho asshole.  Just like everybody else.  So I snarled and bitched at the dog while yapped at me until he had backed himself up to his boy.  The kid grabbed Benji's harness and got the fuck outta there.  I jogged back over to my truck and got in just in time for the light to turn green.  Fuckers were honking at me again, but I'd like to think they were applauding rather than bitching.  I wouldn't be surprised either way, but either way:

Fuck em.