Road Games

I was not in the mood for this ****. I had just had an especially crappy day at work and my head hurt so bad it felt like it was about to give birth to demons.  I wasn't really in the mood for this at all.  It was just moments after I entered the main drag leading from my office building that I saw the son of a ***** in my rearview, flying down the road like a bat out of hell.  He caught up to me in no time and was right on my ***.  Unable to pass me on the two-lane blacktop due to the volume of oncoming traffic, the obnoxious dickhead was flashing his headlights and honking his horn, presumably to intimidate me into driving faster.  I could see his ugly, scowling face and he was shouting something I couldn't make out because I had turned the volume way up on my CD player.  I held steady at the speed limit because no macho ************ was going to make me drive faster than I wanted to.  Mr. Big Stuff could suck my **** until he choked to death.  Finally, the traffic lightened and he zoomed around me, talking all kinds of trash, and flipped me the bird.  He was driving some sort of souped-up monstrosity, with big fat tires, jacked up in the back like a ***** flashing her panties.  Real impressive.  Back in my hell-raising days, it was the kind of car I used to plaster with bumper stickers in the middle of the night.  Said something like "I drive a car like this to compensate for my tiny penis".  Got the stickers from some anarchist group and they were supposedly real hard to remove.

Anyway, I saw the car going around the bend up ahead at what must have been twice the speed limit and my mood immediately improved.  I suddenly felt a whole lot better because I remembered something.  As I drove around the bend, I saw hot rod hillbilly parked on the side of the road a little further on down.  A few yards behind him, just coming to a stop, was a state patrol car.  This was the same patrol car that was parked every blessed day in a semi-secluded spot just past the bend.  I had seen it so many times, day after day, that I had completely forgotten about it.  Guess the NASCAR wannabe wasn't used to traveling this way or it didn't register in his little lizard brain that the cops routinely staked out this stretch of road.  As I approached the parked car, I slowed down, almost to a stop, and lowered the passenger's side window.  Then, with Donna Summer's "Love to Love You Baby" blaring from the CD player, I pointed at the cretin, laughed maniaclly, and flashed him half a peace sign.  All the angry, impotent ****** could do was sit there and glare at me.

I got back up to speed and turned onto the road that lead to the freeway.  As I neared the freeway entrance, I popped a Led Zeppelin CD into the player and cranked it up when I heard the first strains of "Whole Lotta Love".  Energized by Jimmy Page's brilliant guitar riff on the greatest rock song of all time, I floored the accelerator and flew like a bat out of hell all the way home...
Rutterman Rutterman
41-45, M
1 Response Dec 11, 2012

HAHAHAHAHHAA i think this is my favorite of all your stories!!!! "half a peace sign", zomg. did you come up with that saying?! ******* brittiant. and the bit about the bumper stickers! we really, REALLY need to hang out so that we can paint the town red.

Oh thank you so much. I'm glad you liked this one. No. I can't take credit for "half a peace sign". Heard someone say it once and committed it to memory for future use. I'm not the hell-raiser I once was, but I still have my moments :)

i confess to you in advance that WHEN i use the half a peace sign term, i AM going to take credit for it. i'd kill to get you back into hell-raiser mode!!

Take all the credit for it. It's my gift to you. I try to be a mellow fellow these days, but I could perhaps be persuaded to revert to my old ways to some the right person ;)

i thank you for the gift i was about to steal....yes, because as you say, you are a "little bit left of center", and you need someone right to balance your teeter-totter....

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