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The Hogs of Entropy 0138
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>> "Killing Time on a Sunday Afternoon" <<
by -> Legion
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Have you ever noticed the way stupid people drive? You know who I'm
talking about. The ones who cut you off on the highway. The ones who take
up both lanes because they can't seem to make up their mind which one they
want to drive in. Those guys.
The ones who piss me off most are the ones who never signal a turn.
Just how hard is it to reach out your finger and flick that little turn
signal lever, anyway? My theory is that these people are simply too lazy to
use their blinkers once in a while. These lazy fucks can't possibly be
productive members of society.
So anyhow, I went to a busy corner last night (Saturday) to do some
observing. I noticed that the worst "blinker offenders" are snobby yuppie
types with nice cars. I wanted to mess up one of these nice cars to show the
offenders the error of their ways.
So today I grabbed my short-handled maul (like a sledgehammer with a
short handle (hence the name, stupid)) and headed for the corner once more.
Hiding the maul between my back and the lightpost, I waited for an opportune
moment. At last, I saw my target: a trendily-dressed yuppie in a green
Chevy Blazer that sparkled from a recent wash. He pulled up to the corner
(failing to utilize his turn signal actuator) and stuck his head out the
window to look for a clear spot in traffic. I sauntered to his truck,
raised the maul, and brought it *whoomp!*ing down in a perfect arc.
Well, almost perfect. I was aiming for the nice shiny chrome side-
view mirror, but I ended up slamming the 10-pound maul into the offender's
temple. His eyes sort of bulged out and he groaned as he slumped a bit in
his seat. Well, I didn't need any lawsuits cluttering up my busy schedule,
so I figured I'd put the poor bastard out of his misery. I raised the maul
for another go, but his foot apparently slipped off the brake pedal, because
his truck started easing out into the oncoming traffic.
I started jogging alongside the Blazer, giving him a whack every few
seconds when I could lift the heavy maul. "Die, die, shithead, die!" I
screeched while turning his head into spaghetti sauce. But I couldn't hear
myself very well over the sounds of the oncoming traffic swerving around us
with blaring horns, shouting "hey you moron, get the fuck outta the road!"
Their taunts didn't disturb me as much as the fact that they didn't signal
before they swerved into the next lane. But that's all right.
I'll take care of them tomorrow.
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* (c) HoE publications. HoE #138 -- written by Legion -- 12/4/97 *
