What the garbage?!?! Today I drove to work. I was in the left lane on the Parkway, and there was this Toyota Corolla in the right lane a short distance ahead of me. Just as I came up to pass it, the Corolla started to drift over into my lane. I hit the brakes hard, thinking it was just some jerk changing lanes without signaling. Instead, the Toyota crossed the line and just sat there in the middle of the freaking road, blocking both lanes simultaneously.

Now at this point I’m considering two possible courses of action: 1.) engage turbo thrusters and attempt a pass, or 2.) activate Cyclone Missile Launchers and blast the little bugger up the asphalt.

Before I could reach the kill switch, the car drifted back into its own lane. Thank goodness, I thought. I pulled up along side it and, wouldn’t you know, it was the OLDEST little old lady ever. She must have been at least two hundred and fifty years old, what with the fact that she was going 40 miles an hour and probably had a diaper on. Her passenger (who was another old lady who looked to be approximately the same age) was definitely just as senile, except she was balding. In fact, both of them were practically DEAD.

Who lets dying people drive? Seriously?!

A few hundred feet later, we pulled up to a red light. The Corolla was beside me, and we were each the first car in our respective lanes. I revved my engine and looked over at them, the sunlight reflecting off my deep, sexy glasses with black lenses so you can’t see my eyes. She, too, turned her head to look, and I lifted my chin to acknowledge the old sack of crap. Rolling down her window, the old woman shrieked like an Undead Banshee, challenging me in her dark, evil tongue, to a race. But not just any race; a race to the DEATH!

I shifted into first gear and eased up on the brake, letting myself roll back onto the line. Without hesitation, she telepathically communicated to me that if I did not win this race, it would be my last. But I had to get to work; I just had to. For I knew that a bag of the most crunchiest, tastebud-tinglingest Cool Ranch Doritos awaited me at the office.

When the light turned green we both took off, but I was going 65 before she had crossed the intersection. I glanced in my rear view, noticing the pissed off drivers who were stuck behind her slowness in the right lane. “Not today, evil wench!” I said… to myself. Then I decided to activate the Cyclones after all and blew her right off the street, leaving nothing but a charred pile of ashes and a haunting shriek in the wind.

Then the drivers in the other cars cheered my valiant defeat of the evil old lady and declared me a local hero. I’m totally awesome, the end.