You kissed?

On my way to work this morning, at a long traffic light stop, I felt a slight impeded jerk forward, my handbrake was on.

“Oh not again. Who’s it this time” I grumbled as I looked at the rear view mirror. The woman behind looked concerned. She pulled the hand brakes and just sat there. That just means one thing; she doesn’t care and I have to make her.

The light was still red and I glanced to my side for incoming motorbikes. Clear. I got out and walked to see the damage. She instantly opened the door and motioned half her body out.

I looked at my bumper and saw no scratches, bumps and bruises. Oh well, it’s nothing. I turned my head toward her as she gave an inquisitive shrug, as if asking ‘Is everything okay? Are we cool then?’

What a way to start the morning eh? Imagine that. Not even an instant apology. Not even a fake ‘oh, I’m so sorry…’ I was pretty agitated so I gave her a cold look and turned away. If my behind could talk, it’d say ‘yeah, whatever, retard’. I walked straight to my seat. Soon it was time to go.

Huh? What’s that? I’m mean? Hell yeah. Try minding your own business when suddenly someone gives you a rude nudge on your butt. Better yet, get it pinched. And no, they’re not sorry at all. You’ll see what I mean. Besides, we were in the middle of the road. I’m not used to stopping the traffic. And by her looks, she won’t either.

Huh? What’s that? I’m mean? Hell yeah. She can consider herself lucky she’s not my type (read: I'm not amused). Otherwise I’d ask for a chat by the roadside. And maybe her number too. You’ve read bumper stickers and car signs that say ‘You kiss, you pay’. Well, she didn't have to. End of story.