The Wrath of T

Ah, The Wrath of T.

As anyone who knows me even slightly is well aware, I have a wee bit of a temper and an attrociously foul mouth. That said, I haven't gotten this mad about anything in a really long time - it was almost refreshing. Cleansing. A rebirth by fire, or some such.

About a week ago, I went down to the garage to fetch my car and head to work. When I opened the garage door, however, there was a car parked directly in front of the garage. There was no way around it.

First instinct: honk my car horn a bunch of times and start screaming, " WHOEVER YOU ARE... MOVE YOUR FUCKING CAR."

Next step: Kick offending vehicle a few times in the hopes of setting off the car alarm.

When both of these options failed to elicit the desired response of remorseful idiot hustling out to move his/her stupid car, I huffed off to bang on a few of my neighbors' doors - no one answered.

Next step: Kick offending vehicle a few more times - no false hopes of car alarm eruption this time, just a strong desire to make some dents.

Success!

Then I called the cops to have the car towed. And waited and waited and waited and waited. Shockingly, I was becoming even more irritated and irrational at this point. Plus, I was out of cigarettes and my procurement of coffee was being delayed due to this anonymous assclown thinking it was ok to park in front of MY garage.

Around this time, some neighbors from across the alley came out of their garages and we commiserated on the general idiocy of humanity. It was all very lovely and heartwarming and neighborly.

Just as I was explaining how I was regretting my decision to call the police as it was impeding my next plan of throwing a brick through the windshield of the car, closing my garage back up, and calling somebody to drive me to work, there he was: my nemesis. He was sort of a low-rent, blond version of David Silver. But not the cute later days David Silver, the icky, early version with the bad pants. And he had one of my idiot stoner downstairs neighbors with him. They are another story entirely. Suffice it to say: I do not care for them. Apparently, they have a houseguest. Sweet.

LRBVDS: "whaddya mean ya gonna throw a brick through my window. ya coulda just come and got me."

CT: "How the fuck am I supposed to know who you are or where you are? Just get your stupid car out of my way."

LRBVDS: "ya don't gotta be such a bitch - i was right there in the living room."

CT: "Again, how the fuck am I supposed to know who you are or where you are? Just get your stupid car out of my way."

LRBVDS: "man. ya don't gotta be such a bitch"

CT: "Near-Tourettes in quality oupouring of curse words at top volume tsunami of rage unleashed."

Damn. It was excellent. I sort of wish I had a tape recorder.
Oh, and I keyed his car. Just a little bit.