Tuesday, December 06, 2005

The fatso with the finger

Federal highway, yesterday.
It wasn't a bad traffic jam, just that it was moving slowly. I was OK with it since I've got my iPod with me.
And then this Satria GTi zoomed past me. On a slow moving road he thought he was some F1 driver.
Not any normal Satria mind you, it was those with modified exhaust pipe that you could barbeque an elephant.
Ok, ok, fine, a baby elephant then.

All the cars were avoiding him, you could hear tires screeching, honks honking, you know, angry drivers.
I'm sure you've experienced the same thing. So I've done what most people would've done under the circumstance: curse that he'd crash to his death.
15 minutes later, I drove past a crash scene.
Cue my line: Fuck me.
It was a Benz (the old solid rectangular E-class) and surprise, surprise, that Satria GTi with modified exhaust pipe.
Well, it wasn't a HUGE crash. Just a small bump.
The Satria driver was an Indian. That's fine. What shits me was that there were a woman and a child in the car.
I was glad my curse didn't come true. But then again, I hoped it came true. The guy should die. No, maybe his wife and child should die so that he'd live and learn his fucking lesson. Moron.
Wasted my curse somemore.