Imagine my surprise, coming out of the resto the other night, to see that you had decided to park your tin-bucket right up on our rear bumper. Gosh, you’re rather touchy-feely, aren’t you? Normally, that part is exit-only, but I could make an exception for you.
Do you know what I found super-cool about this little manoeuver on your part? Why, not only did you make it nearly impossible for us to get out of the spot but, in your grandiose self-importance, you had the cojones to also block the wheelchair access onto the sidewalk. Hey, when it comes to making life slightly easier for gimps and crips, fuck that, right? You’re much too important. So important that you can’t be bothered to find another parking spot anywhere further up the road. Heck, that extra 30 seconds you may have been forced to walk is 30 seconds too much. Let the handicap struggle down the road; no skin off your ass. It’s strange, I was sure we had parked on the corner, but I guess we were wrong.
I applaud you, fine gentleman/madam, in your choice of vehicles. An SUV just shouts to the world, “Hey, I’m a jackass and I don’t care what anyone says.” Bravo. Oh, and choosing a crap-ass KIA SUV? Yeah, no comment. I have a question, though: Have you found any polyps yet, what with your head so far up your ass?
No, no, don’t worry. My key still works perfectly. Why do you ask?
Update: Hmm, seems I’m not the only one.