Okay, You Win—You’re Fucking Crazy.

I was walking home from a long day at work, headphones in, just doing my thing. I stepped up to a crosswalk as you were pulling up to the stop—not a busy street either, in fact you were the only car. You were doing that rolly-stop thing so I waited a few seconds to see if you were going to actually stop before stepping in front of your car, because the last thing I needed after a long day of making coffee for asshole tourists was to be turned into a human pancake. You stopped, so I walked in front of you. And you sounded your fucking car horn loud and repeatedly to let me know how pissed off you were that I inconvenienced you for—oh my god, it must have been a whole seven seconds—followed by you flipping me the bird and yelling inside your car. Damn straight I flipped you off in return. So you rolled down your window to let me know how fucking crazy you were. I ignored you and walked off, because I have better things to do than to argue with some asshole about what was my legal right-of-way. But no, that wasn’t enough for you. You followed me—for two fucking blocks—screaming at me with your windows rolled down, and the icing on top of your fucking crazy cake was when you started launching shit from your window (you have terrible aim, bee-tee-dubs). All right, I get it, you are balls-to-the-wall crazy! YOU WIN! Enjoy the satisfaction of knowing that you are entirely capable of throwing temper tantrums (and soda sups and whatever the fuck that plastic thing was) from the safety of a moving 2-ton steel cage, and eat a dick while you’re at it.