fucking parking space, dickweed.
So I’m cruising down the aisle in the Wal-Mart parking lot, in front of Jo-Ann Fabrics down on the end. And I’m facing towards the Jo-Ann, you know? So there’s a parking space coming up on my right, so as I roll along I swing out to the left a little, you know, so I can get in there without having to crank it around. So for maybe a couple car lengths I’m over in the left-hand lane of the aisle, but there’s nobody coming towards me. There’s a car behind me but it’s way back there, just coming into the aisle, you know?
So I start to make my right-hand turn and pull into the parking space, and suddenly there’s this other car there behind me, poof, just like that, right at my right rear quarter. URK go the brakes, but no “thump” thank god, and we both go “um…”
And does she back up? No. She just SITS there. And after a minute, she kind of waves at me, a kind of noble gesture, like, “you go ahead.”
Well, shitfire, lady, thank you SO much for allowing ME to proceed upon my lawful way, because where does it say that you’re supposed to come zooming up beside me on the RIGHT just because I happen to be moseying along in the left-hand lane for a minute? What did you think I was doing over there, sweetheart–reading their vanity plates or something? Geez.
And hey, what’s the emergency, that you gotta whiz past me like that? They’re gonna be sold out of Easter window clings at Jo-Ann or something? Oh, you didn’t seriously think you were gonna squeak into that parking place ahead of me, didja? Playin’ chicken with the nice lady in the Dodge Caravan? “Oh, that’s a nice new '99, she won’t want any dings…” Well, fuck you, babe, AND the Toyota you rode in on. Me and this Caravan been up against some mighty tough competitors over at the Kroger Bumper Cars Facility, and hon, you ain’t even worthy to play on the Junior Shopping Cart Team over there.