Hey, you.
Yeah you, the young (16-22) Hispanic or Oriental male with flashy watch and definitely left ear pierced, in the silvery grey Honda Accord LX, license plate ###XXX, emissions tags expiring March '05, "X racing" logo on the back, tailpipe modified to be bigger (and louder, so probably some muffler work), who was pulling out of the apartment complexes on 19th, the ones that are just southwest of 19th Ave and Butler, sometime around 12:30 very early this morning.
What the FUCK do you think you were doing, pulling out like that? You pulled out, obviously without looking, swerving through the turning lane, through the lane you were supposed the fuck to go into, and into the middle northbound lane -- WHERE THERE WAS A VERY NOTICABLE CAR DRIVING, YOU NITWIT! Of course I fucking honked my fucking horn at you, you incompetent fuck! I had to dive into the other lane to avoid you colliding with me. So you drove off in a fucking hurry to get to some place you urgently needed to be ...
... which was JACK-IN-THE-BOX.
Oh, yeah.
Feel the love.
Feel the all-encompassing, lovey-lovey hearts-and-flowers-and-kitten-kisses luuuuurve coming at you from me, you bastard who shames the name of your mother and father, the sort of passion that inspires me to complain to the police department about your punk-hatted ass.
I hope when you're loving your car carnally up the exhaust pipe (even though it's clearly far too big to accomodate you with any degree of satisfaction, and would have been too big even before it was modded) that you haven't waited for it to cool down first.
Hugs and kisses (to be delivered to you by that guy who sits on the corner, the grungy one with the beard),
the bitch who honked at you and then took down your license plate and other information while sitting behind you in the drive-through