Lady Maggot’s Brand of Vigilante Justice (Or: Sympathy For The Unnecessarily Picked Upon)

Mar 21, 2008 14:27

In the last week, there's been a black cloud following me around, dripping dirty rain water into my coffee and making my hair frizzy.  But I did make some conclusions:

1) When a crazy bitch in a red truck squeezes in between your car and the one ahead of you in line at the carwash and comes this close to scratching your newly acquired car, then flips YOU off, and THEN, after purchasing what was probably either a large order of tater tots and/or onion rings, goes to the trouble to come BACK THROUGH just to flip you off AGAIN, roll down her window and shout, “Fuck you, you whore!”, it is entirely reasonable to grab the hunting knife Sean Michael once gave you, climb out of your car, and shout, “Shut up, fatty!  Maybe you should stop going to Sonic and then subjecting innocent bystanders to the bitterness you feel due to your cottage cheese thighs.  Did you want some of this?” (and then hold the knife up and leer so she can get a good look at you and then revel in the widening of her eyes)

She left then.  And I got my car washed.

*I don’t ever make fun of people’s weight unless they call me a whore.  She deserved it.*

2) When a yuppie mom who’s dropping off her brat at the fancy daycare across street from your residence parks right smack in front of the “No Parking” sign for the 100th time, making it nearly impossible for you to exit your driveway for work in the morning, it’s totally appropriate to write a note on a piece of scratch paper in red Clinique lip gloss that reads “Please stop parking here!” and then, noting the gummy gooey consistency of said lip gloss, slap it down on the middle of the clean and shiny windshield of said yuppie mom’s Volvo SUV.  Because who needs a windshield wiper blade to hold down a kindly neighborhood request when the writing substance itself will suffice?

I didn’t have a pen.  And the lip gloss looked like dried blood.

*I’ve done worse: remember the Turkey tetrazzini I dumped on top of the daycare’s big red barn mailbox last year?*

3) When a drunk sorority bitch at your favorite bar starts making comments (after she’s seen you go into a stall and given you the patented-trust-fund-baby-once-over) to her friend in the other stall about how tattooed people are “always rude and kind of filthy anyway”, it is MOST befitting to wipe, flush, give HER the patented-“filthy”-“rude”-tattooed-cunt-once-over, state in feigned relief “Thank GOD for hand sanitizer”, flip her the bird inches away from her (mediocre) nose job, and stalk out.

I thought for sure she would come looking from me “to tell me what for” etc.  But she mysteriously disappeared after that….

*This “filthy”, “rude” tattooed person had even just passed TP to the bitch friend in the next stall because she was out.  Hmph.*

While Lady Maggot knows she is quite lucky to have not gotten into a catfight with any of these wastes of space, she can’t help but feel a tiny tinge of redemption.

flippin the bird, brandishing knives, carwash, lip gloss

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