how'd you get that shiner?

so the other night i was shuttling pies around, as i am wont to do. wont is another word we should reintroduce to the vernacular, in my humble opinion.

anyways, i'm toddling along at a clean 40 mph when some dippy bastard who couldn't afford the optional blinkers on his sorry pos decides he wants to occupy the same space that i am.

i say, "oh, shit" and lean on the horn like my life depends on it (it does), but nothing happens. no sound.

fuck, i am pushing on the airbag. straight into my head pops the inner monologue with: "lucky thing you were pressing on the brakes as hard as the airbag, or you would've punched yourself in the face at 300 mph."

"holy shit, how'd you get that shiner?"

"punched meself in the face."

(though that would afford an interesting opportunity to inject a bit of the surreal in anyone that asks' life)

by the time i find the button for the horn, and press it, the guy is in my lane, in front of me, though still decidedly close to my front bumper, but i have missed my opportunity to make him shit his pants by scaring the sweet cherry fuckstain out of him.

driving pizzas around the greater lakewood area, i should be alotted hazardous duty pay. if i had an extra buck for every near-accicent i got into, i could produce porn movies. but only on the sunny, happy days, eh, kids?

darth sardonic