you know, you may not believe it but, sometimes in new york, you'll put your life in a total stranger's hands. the bastard was returning from dinner late this evening when i scored a cab. this guy was coming in like a freight train. weaves between two other cabs and i get in. lucky me.
the man was clearly russian by the way he spoke and clearly looked like the star of a troma film called fat guy goes nutzoid. except he was wearing a yellow tank top and a sweatband on his head which he kept fiddling with. apparently there was construction or some crap so, there was a little back up on the block. truth to tell, i was in a hurry not only because it's late but, because you pay towards the meter on a cab even when stuck in traffic and i want to pay for distance, not for standing still. anyway nutzoid leans on his horn with what appeared to be his entire body when traffic cleared up and he held his body on the horn for what seemed like the rest of the ride down continental avenue. all the while speeding and the car didn't feel all that stable to begin with. i get to my block, pay the man and got out with my life back in my hands. it's going to rain tomorrow...well...this morning that is. it stinks out, like it's too humid and something's got to give. oh well, time for bed. —the bastard
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