#55: Where is pants!?

Vagabond on Oct. 24, 2006

I obey one simple rule of traffic, and only one simple rule of traffic.

I have the right of way. All the time.

When I'm crossing the street? Oh yeah, I've got the right of way. When I'm making a right turn on red? You better believe that I've got the right of way. When there's a 4-way stop sign at the intersection and I'm the first one there? Well… I don't remember the specifics, but I probably didn't stop for the sign anyway.

I see myself as a Ruler of the Road. A Highlord of the Highway. A… Poobah of the Prospect. Either way, I command such authority over the road that only jealous children riding their bikes and making loud sireny noises dare to stop me. And of course every time they pull me over and demand to see my license, I demand to see their license to be an asshole to me when I'm having fun going 90 in a 15.



At that point, the jealousy on their minds transfers itself to the jealousy of their billyclubs against my skull.

And jealousy really hurts, regardless of how much I had to drink beforehand.


(PS: Again, I'd really appreciate any comments about the new template. I want to make sure that there aren't any lingering 800x600 people out there that are probably really hating me for shifting over. Anyway, thanks in advance.)