trader joe's is not a racetrack; a letter
Dear Maniacal Driver,
I was instructing my son on the manner in which we leave grocery stores and enter parking lots - touching on the finer points of being a short person unseen to moving cars - when you flew past me, emphasizing my lesson and scaring the bejeebus out of us.
Please be advised: Busy parking lots do not welcome your sort. Kindly slow down or stay home.
Regards,
Mama Milton
(Yes, I considered running your car down, ramming it a bit, but that's not how my mama raised me. Count your lucky stars.)
I was instructing my son on the manner in which we leave grocery stores and enter parking lots - touching on the finer points of being a short person unseen to moving cars - when you flew past me, emphasizing my lesson and scaring the bejeebus out of us.
Please be advised: Busy parking lots do not welcome your sort. Kindly slow down or stay home.
Regards,
Mama Milton
(Yes, I considered running your car down, ramming it a bit, but that's not how my mama raised me. Count your lucky stars.)
Comments
(seriously, though, what is wrong with some people?)
Afoot I might have landed a fist on a part of his speeding vehicle and behind the wheel, I am Mistress of the Horn & Distinctive Gesturing. Which is why you all dislike riding with me, I'm sure.
You are so much more gracious with the letter and all.
Feel free to shun me.