Hey boys and girls, gather, gather around and I'll tell you a story, it's alittle tale that took place in the not so distant past. It begins in the early afternoon with a lazy roll out of bed, a long hot shower to wash off the cold from the previous evening, and a small breakfast. Once all the morning rituals were taken care of I decided to get some errands done, of which, I had 2. (It was not a loaf of bread, a carton of milk and a stick of butter) I needed a card for the upcoming wedding on Saturday and I also needed to fill the tank for Cousin Kletus.
So where does one go when just in need of such things you ask? Walmart and a gas station of course. Walmart is an experience everytime I go, and it wasn't different this time. 28 aisles 4 open and I inevitably pick the slowest aisle, I second guessed my initial choice and still ended up waiting for 50minutes to buy a 3dollar wedding card. I wasn' too bitter, but I started bordering on heated by the end of the line. From there I traveled to the gas station just across the street. This particular station has 18 pumps 2 of which had cars at them. I chose pump 18, my territorial choice for this venue. Cousin Kletus has a fairly large tank, and my gas light flashed the moment I stopped (masterful timing on my part). The station has a 50dollar limit per purchase, so after the first round I had to hang the hose and restart. At this point 5 other cars were lined at various pumps doing their business. As I closed on the full tank mark a car pulled in facing my ride, he pulled up to within a few feet of the bumper. I finished my fill, and mounted my steel steed, there was a car behind me and a car boxing me in. 12 Empty pumps and this yahoo was feet away from putting me over the edge of pissed off.... but only for a split second. You see, the hood rat flashed the over the steering wheel WTF jazz hands at me. Split second, GONE.
I motioned without my orange cone aviation signal flashlights that I would need some room to get out. Ghetto monkey laid on his horn and jazz hands again. I slowly glanced to my right and still saw 12 empty pumps. He inched closer, I got maaaad. ( Apparently, I have the same look that my brother has when he gets pissed, I don't do it often but when it happens I've been told I look like a serial killer on speed). I motioned politely that I didn't have enough room again, and he immediatel started cursing me through his windshield. I was awestuck my his inability to understand the simple equation that was before him. So, I cursed my windshiled and then did something on impulse that I've never done before, I've seen it mind you(with parents and their toddlers), but never took in the practice. I raised one hand and showed him 5 fingers then slowly began counting down to one.... his eyes widened when I got to two fingers like he was going to get put in a time-out chair,.... and inched closer once again. When I got to once I kicked open my door and got out, started rounding the end of Kletus walking to his driverside window. His lady friend who witnessed the whole encounter from the passenger seat quickly broke into tears and pleaded with Monkey McJackass to back up. I politely tapped on his window which he cracked open just enough to disallow a hand to reach into his vehicle yet verbal abuse to escape. I informed him; in matter of fact way, that the bumper of my Jeep was manufactured with the express purpose of punching radiators and engine blocks into the passenger compartments of little rice burners such as he was driving. I also pointed to the bumper with it's tow hooks and let him know that A.) Trail Rated means I could end up on his hood monster truck style and the skid plates would laugh at the damage to his car B.) the foglights were cheap to replace and C.) I would probably take his hood as a souvenir. He screamed some obsinities as I returned to the driver seat. When Cousin Kletus starts there is a shimmy that rocks the vehicle 2 1/2 times on it shocks. The engine revs pretty high and is louder of course outside that inside. When the lights are turned on in their entirety they rival the sun. Again I started a five finger count down.... by three he was at Pump number 1 on the other side of the lot cursing under his breath the fact that hs lady friend was still in tears. Today Boys and Girls I stepped over the line from civil human being to monsterous creature. I'm not happy with me, myself or I. I did however get out of the gas station 20minutes shy of my stint at Wallyworld.
Punk McGhetto got a lesson in humility, and or, common sense.