The other day after I exited a store, I was walking to my car. It was parked on the far side of a pick-up truck (grey silverado, 4 door, Knox county, Nebraska) that the customer preceding me climbed into and started.

As I got closer, the back-up lamps came on as he put his Redneck Mobile into reverse.

He turned to look behind him. I was now directly in his line of vision. He applied pressure to the gas peddle and his Silver-sackless Truck slowly started to move.

While he was looking right at me now glaring at him!

I continued to glare while mouthing, “I’m walking here!”

I didn’t falter or slow my steps.

We continued to stare down each other until I reached my car door and inserted the keys. He had now backed completely out his stall.

I sat down behind the wheel and shut my door. I heard a honk. I looked over and there was Dickless giving me the finger. Without hesitating I returned the favor and even added “Fuck you!” to the exchange.

What a chickenshit. This guy had to wait until he and his limp dick were safely instead his truck and moving before “engaging” me in some unjustified road rage? In a word, the guy was Douche-arrific.

For me, I was pretty proud of the fact that even with sunglasses on, I had given that guy a complete mind fuck as well as a mental ball flogging.

Do not doubt the power of My Glare!

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Geohde, maybe you can use this at your next Mother’s Group meeting.

8 thoughts on “SORRY ABOUT YOUR DICK”

  1. Snigger.

    DD, Darlin’. I think I’m worse.

    Wanna know what I do?

    Obstruct as much as possible and THEN glance in my rearview mirror like I’ve just spotted them, pretent to cheerily misinterpret all the honking and rageaholc bouncing as if they’re simply my BESTEST long lost friend ever. Complete with over the top waving hello and big ass smiles.

    They hate it. Especially when they give the finger and I’m all ‘Hi!!!!!!!!!!! (Dickwad!!!!!!!!!)’.


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