F$#@ You!

Maybe it’s the full moon,
or the nuthouse is giving out day passes.  Whatever the case, I’m
inclined to believe the city of Moncton has the highest-per-capita of morons in the province.  In my ever continuing saga of hauling stones to different locations for erosion protection, I’ve landed square in the middle of downtown.  And in the middle of of severe shortage of prozac by the looks of things.

I’ve never been swore at
so much in my life.  Even my teen years of drinking and carousing weren’t this riddled with profanities.  And my crime? Trying to cross four lanes of traffic to get to and from the job site.  Once rush hour hits, I’d have a better chance of doing the lambada with the Queen of England than get to the other side of the street.

At first I felt bad about
tying up traffic.  I assumed the shouts of anger were from important people doing important things.  Then I started looking at the people who were heckling me.  An unshaven man in a rusty truck.  In a hurry to drink a few beers then slap his wife around no doubt.  Then a pimple faced blonde barely able to see over the steering wheel.  I’ll bet she was rushing to get to her television to watch an educational program, like “Jersey Shore.”

I got one question for you
people.  Are you all on crack?  Do you think I like trying to
manuever a huge truck and trailer loaded with rock up and down city streets that were designed by a bunch of drunken city councellors in the 19th century?  Oops, I guess that’s two questions. Might be too much for all of you who were giving me the finger to handle.  The best thing all of you can do is keep your windows up and your fingers down, before one of us goes postal.  Just remember:

You think you’re smart

by letting off steam

you’ve got four wheels

and I’ve got eighteen

 

Keep pushing me around

and soon I’ll push back

I’ll still be going

you’ll just be flat…

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