Thank you for the early-morning panic attack, you sheisty, abysmal garbage can. You were eager to cut me off on Ellis, as two lanes merged into one passing over Gothard. I was already closing the gap with the car in front of me when you blared your horn, making sure I knew you wanted to be in front of me. Heart pounding, I proceeded on my way and saw you deliberately swerving and discernably screaming in my rear-view mirror. At the stop sign, you pulled up next to my car and began shouting a colorful pallet of obscenities as we waited. I hope you enjoyed my ear-to-ear grin as you went blue in the face. You are a human disaster.
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