the bastard had business in the fhills yesterday.so after waking up at the crack of noon, the bastard set out in his lil blue pill towards the williamsburg bridge.
traffic on grant street.
asshole in an acura decides that the rules don't apply to him.
goes around everyone by heading into the wrong lane.
he's a danger to us all, i think.
underdog by kasabian queues up on the stereo.
tooling along the nonsense i end up next to him and i have to move in.
he doesn't want that.
so the bastard makes it happen. somewhere in my caffeinated chest, predatory behavior ensues.
he goes around the crowd again and i give him the finger.
flashback: a man who owns a restaurant near my office passed some advice along to a friend of mine. he says to him, "give your problems away to the universe".
it's a very hindu phrase.
the bastard like this phrase. it makes it easy to make your problems less stressy. make the rigors of the day less, well, rigorous. makes your problems less...yours.
give your problems away to the universe.
OK flash forward: fuck that noise.
threatened, jerkinatruck makes a right from the left turn lane. he feels caught up in his own road rage. missed his turn.
the bald man in the little car is shaking his fist at me.
he must be a nazi.
but, actually, i'm not. you're just a dick. and a crappy driver to boot.
chase ended, the bastard makes his right, left, right, to get on the willy bee.
and there he is.
and now he's maneuvering to get in front of me for what would appear to be the "sake" of it.
i laugh.
he's ridiculous.
i make my right to the inner lanes.
jerkinatruck makes his right into the outer lanes making a mess of his chase.
he's caught, i'm not.
sailing over the bridge at 80, i stick out my hand and wave at him in the distance as he becomes part of the intenet and i become a scary story he tells at the dinner table later.
bastard: 1
jerkinatruck: 0
i'll give my anger away to the universe tomorrow. petty victories feel too good this time. what can i say, i'm petty.
—the bastard
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