Say You

To whom it may concern,

The lanes shifted when you were next to me, and I just didn’t feel like shifting with them. As a member of the rotary club, I feel it is my prerogative. I mean really. Could you imagine if Mr. Cuddles were to shift his pure bred form to the right? It might not only muss his coat, but send him to several more sessions in doggy therapy.

Next time, remember who rules the road, so you don’t have to slam on the brakes in that winged monstrosity that you call a car.

Stop ruining my drive home.

-Mrs. Margaret Gladstone-Williamson

Say Me

Dear Lexus-driving Uber bitch,

When the lanes shift to the right and you decide not to, I’m not the one who is a fucking asshole, so save the dirty looks for the butler. When you pull that shit, I have to refrain from reciprocating by giving you the finger or merging into the side of your overpriced, rebranded Toyota.

Refraining takes effort that I’m really not willing to expend on you these days, plus it blows Newton’s Third Law.

Stop fucking up science.

Love,
Jon

Posted in Anger