Monday, October 31, 2005

To the Hughes Avenue Slasher…A poem:

What was it
That made you slash my tire?
Was it just a good time
Or some misplaced ire?

Were you picked on and put upon
And pummeled and troubled
By bleak nightmare visions
Of offenses redoubled?

Has the world left you crying
So strikingly alone
Wondering where your friends
And self-respect have flown?

Are you missing the love
Of your pitiful dad?
Is that what has made you
Destructive and sad?

Was your mom’s breast milk tainted?
Was it curdled and bitter?
Were you touched on your no-nos
By a bad baby-sitter?

Is that why you snuck
Into my vehicle’s home
To shiv its rear tire
So the air would be gone?

Or could the answer be much more easy to see?
Something as simple as mere jealousy?

When you looked into my carport
Your choler, it grew
‘Cause my tire’s more handsome
And smarter than you.

Fun Fact: I hate vandalism. Yes, some jerk-ass slashed my car’s tire. They also got my neighbor’s. However, they didn’t actually slash my neighbor’s tire; the chicken-shit vandal just let the air out of it. See, my neighbor actually spent money on his tires, it would have been hard to slash it. Almost impossible. They’re huge freaking tires.

But, damnit, I’m not going to let some fucktard with a pen knife make me spend more that $35 on a freaking tire! This is America! I should be able to buy cheap tires without fear of attack. If they come apart while driving on the freeway, then hey, that’s my problem because I bought cheap tires. But vandalism shouldn’t be a concern.

And why would someone want to slash my tires anyway? Have they seen my dirty, rusty car?

Did they really need to add insult to injury?

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