So. I was driving down North French. Approaching the boulevard. I see a car wanting to pull out of the mobile and since my light is red I let him go. So does the car next to me. I didn’t bother to pull up–I was going to get to that when the light turns green.
This guy pulls up behind me and beeps. I pull forward to placate him. He beeps again. I give him the finger. The light turns green. I turn right. He turns right (no blinker). I go in the left lane, he pulls up angrily into the right. Rolls down his window. I roll down mine. I’m no fucking pansy…
“Why did you give me the finger?”
“Because you beeped twice when there was no reason to”
“… well if you don’t sound gayer than gay. You like it up the ass?”
“Oh, well, you’re driving a big black TRUCK maybe you have a small PENIS!” so that shuts him up. It was probably the truth. So we’re even. I’m a fag and he has a small penis. I’d rather have a functional penis and be gay than be a man with a diesel GM truck–the Dodge Cummins is a-lot-fucking-better. At least he can help that he bought a rickety POS whereas I really can’t help how I talk.
So I go to turn left onto Erie. I get an arrow, I wave him one last good bye finger for being a giant douche. He pulls out of the middle lane and turns, coming full steam at me. I was like oh shit. I pulled to the side (there’s not much room there) and he pulls alongside of me. I thought you fucking dumbass–I drive a car and you drive a truck. He yelled something like “Fags should die!” Terrific. I get on the brakes super hard like any gay fag would–you know, I do these types of things for fun. Almost locked those poor tires, but they are reasonably grippy. I don’t think he took into account that this fag <3’s grippy tires. He notices (he’s too high to notice all that quickly) that I am no along side him anymore. I look behind and the car is pretty far back and driving slowly, look down the other way and there is nobody. Make a very hard right onto a side street (it’s right by that Tim Hortons). Dorothy turns in like a champ, but understeers badly. That’s ok because the steering tells you that the front tires can handle a little more steering angle or a little more throttle, but not both. That’s what makes a Honda a Honda. 
I knew he could turn down a side street and easily find me, so I zig zagged like Lorraine told me to:
“SERPENTINE CARL!”
anyway
Went back around to see if anybody was following. It was more instinctual than necessay, but I didn’t want him following me home. Unfortunately in real life getting “home” doesn’t mean you’re safe.
Then I noticed he was gone. And I was shaking a bit. A little torn up. A lot mad at myself for giving him the finger in the first place. He may have been in a hurry, he may have had some things on his mind, he may have just not liked gay people. I failed–I could have not laughed at him or said he had a small penis. I could have just taken his words like a champ. I could have been better. Oh well. I’m not. I never claimed to be. I was just letting the person out of the drive way so maybe I could save them a few extra minutes and a bit of stress. Oh well.
He probably hates gay people more now. Mission unaccomplished.
