So, it's been snowing all night. Shocking. As if it hasn't been snowing every night since last month.
Jeremy and I were on our way home after a day of spending money
we don't have. Traffic on the interstate was moving fairly slow given the blizzard and all, and Jeremy started to complain about a car riding his ass.
Sure enough, a Mustang was more or less in his trunk. I lifted my arm to the back window and promptly flipped the guy off, which didn't help the situation, but it made me feel better. And that's what this is about. Me.
Because we were technically in the passing lane, Jeremy made his way over to the right lane. Carefully. Because the interstate was covered in snow. Because it was snowing.
Before we were even safely in our own lane, the shiny, red Mustang flew past us, kicking up snow. Aw, such a pretty car. Asshole.
"What a dick," I muttered. "I hope he crashes."
Approximately three-fourths of a mile later, up ahead on the road, we saw a swirl of headlights, a spinning vehicle and something hit the guardrail. Luckily only one vehicle was involved, and it wasn't ours.
But sure as shit, as we passed the scene, it was none other than our friend the Mustang. Spun out. Near the ditch. Facing the wrong direction with a smashed up front end.
Of course I started laughing because I'm an insensitive jerk, and we carried along on our way.
"That's karma, jackass."