Published on December 10th, 2007 | by Hans Fruck0
People Who Deserve to Die
I’m not a violent man, but if I’d had a sniper’s rifle this morning, or even just an axe, there would be bodies littering the streets.
I refer to the megawanker who parked his four-wheel drive at the end of the crescent opposite and over the fence from my study this morning. Megawanker, whose face I never saw, was picking up several kiddywinks — it must be school holidays because the shrieking brats are everywhere — and, judging by the mountain bikes strapped to the back of the 4WD, was taking them on a cycling holiday. So far so good. As a matter of principle, I do object to 4WDs because they’re environment-degrading, motorist-killing, trophy vehicles for people who have oversized bank accounts and undersized social conscience, not to mention microscopic genitalia. But I haven’t yet reached the point where I would kill someone for owning one.
However, I would happily exterminate someone who parked their 4WD outside a house and sat there beeping the horn on and off for 10 motherfucking minutes. I’m gonna make this crystal-clear so that even the mentally deficient can understand: instead of beeping your horn, GET OUT OF THE FUCKING VEHICLE, COCKLORD.
Typing this, I’m starting to get angry all over again.
But honestly, am I wrong? If you drove up to the Smedley-Higginses’ house to pick up little Meredith — to take her on a holiday jaunt with your precocious little Madiison — would you sit in your goddamn urban-assault vehicle beeping the horn to summon Meredith, or her parents, or her brother, or a delicious iced-tea before departure, or for the glory of drawing everyone’s attention to your sleek black shiny planet-killing vehicle, or for the lordly pleasure of watching people scurry back and forth between the house and your semi-trailer-sized car?
No, of course you wouldn’t. Because it’s fucking rude. I’m sure the Smedley-Higgenses are grateful that you’re taking Meredith on holiday, but it’s still poor form not to detach your ample arse from the driver’s seat and go into the house to say ‘hello’. And I dare say, the Smedley-Higgenses’ neighbours — such as yours truly — aren’t that impressed by the constant horn-beeping. Frankly, it probably annoys the shit out of them. And one of them might even take great satisfaction from putting a bullet through your inconsiderate fucking cranium — that is, in the unlikely event you ever got out of the vehicle long enough to give them a clear shot.
In retrospect, I wouldn’t have put a slug through your brainpan. No, I would prefer to get up close. Like right outside the driver’s window, where I would say to your startled face, through gritted teeth, Clint Eastwood-like: ‘You. Couldn’t. Just. Get. Out. Of. The. Car. Could. You?’
I’d want them to die knowing that their own rudeness was the reason I was taking the axe to them.