Friday, November 21, 2014

WHORE

I look at the clock (actually, I look at my phone. Who has a clock anymore?) it's 2:30pm. Christ. I still have two and a half hours to go. I have enough work to tide me over until 5, but the motivation isn't there. Only yawns. I stretch and look around my office for some sort of message. None. I get up and go for a cup of coffee. Black.

3:04. Holy crap, the day has just stalled out.

4:15. Ugh.

4:46. I can do this.

5. I'm out.

I make a quick stop to pick up my dog from the kennel and he settles into the back seat.

Merging onto the freeway is always an anxious moment. Cars in front of me are always merging too slow and the cars already on the freeway fly by. I have to blink and either barge or be barged on.
Today the traffic is almost stopped. I slip in behind a giant container truck and wait with all the others. This goes on for some time.

Finally things start to move and cars go into a frenzy. Which lane i faster? Is that bus holding things up? I better switch over to the left. Maybe the right. Why is that guy still moving so slow?

Finally, I exit the freeway and am trapped behind an over-loaded pick-up truck, tools and junk hanging off like hair. About two blocks from my house we I stop at a 4-way. The truck in front of me, painfully slow — that's the last straw. I snap and pull around him quickly. I forget to stop at the sign. The oncoming car  starts turning in front of me and we both hit our brakes. There is now about 10 feet from my face to his between our open windows. I look at him and he is in a full rage, his face all twisted up and red. He is ugly with anger. We both speak at the same time…

I start, "I'm sorry man, I made a mis..."

He yells — much louder than I expected, "YOU WHORE! I'll kill you and your dog!"

What? Did he just say that? No… he couldn't have. He wants to kill me — and my dog? For cutting him off? He must have said, I could have killed you and your dog. Yeah. We each drive off and I cant help but to yell.

Well then, "… FUCK YOU!"

That was smart. The dude calls me a "whore" and all I can think of is Fuck You. Classic. For the rest of my short drive home, I think of alternative responses.

"And a good day to you, sir."

"Who's the whore here? Whore."

"Whore? How does that possibly make any sense?"

OK, so I have no good alternative responses. I park in front of my place and look back at my dog. He's sitting up in the seat, tongue out, a smile on his face.

Asshole.


Bender. Originally published in issue #44 of Monster Children. 2014.
Illustration by Travis Millard.