So I'm toodling down the highway. Central reservation on my radar. I don't misagander at the Mexico shop across the way. I project my arm leftward, in a clear display of my intent to leave the shoulder, and enter the roadway. Enter right, vehicle with driver in fooT on fuel. Driver, being an idiocrat, prioritises hand on horn>foot on brake. Now I'm crossing the hashed whitey line. Driver's gonna get me. Foot still on accelerator. Hand still on horn. Our front MakTire taps the right rear quarter panel. Driver passes me and suddenly discovers vehicle is equipped with break pedal. Just before stopline, Green aero shining brightly, driver slows to press hand further into steering wheel.
Dear stupid cunt in front of the library,
Do you think I'm funny now?
