Drivin' Miss Doozie
Anyway, we got stopped by one of the three gazillion traffic lights along the way, and I shoved my muzzle out the side vent window to check out the rather bedraggled lookin' canine yankin' his human from stunted bush to anemic saplin' 'round the edges of a nearby parkin' lot. I was just about to give him a shout out when AHM said "Don't even think about it!"
Huh? Usually she doesn't mind if I throw out a comment or two on the passin' parade, so I looked around and saw her starin' at a little foreign car gettin' ready to exit from a convenience store across the intersection. Actually she was lookin' at the girl drivin' the car who had one hand clutchin' a cell phone clamped to her ear and the other one wavin' in the air as she talked.
There was plenty of time for her to pull out of the store lot while we were stuck at the light, but the girl was just babblin' and wavin' instead of drivin'. The big ole' pick-up truck next to us revved his engine like he wanted to drag, which was pretty stupid 'cause who in their right mind thinks a little VW Bug is gonna' drag a honkin' great F150 pick-up with three-story tall tires? But he was just getting' ready for the dash to the next intersection, which is a sport in itself 'round here. See, none of the lights along that road are synchronized, so if ya' don't wanna' get caught at the next red light, ya' gotta' blast out of the blocks like a fe-lyin' hearin' a can opener and hope no one cuts ya' off.
Which is where Cell-Phone-Girl comes in. She was still sittin' and yakkin' when the cross-light turned yellow and the pick-up revved again.
Pick-Up-Guy won the break by nearly rollin' over the mini which tried to sneak through the intersection with the light on yellow-red, and AHM was second by a length. She was just ready to shift gears when…
…Cell-Phone-Girl lunged out of the parkin' lot right in front of us.
It wasn't really a close call since AHM already figured she was a dumb Cell-Phone-Girl, but considerin' the stupid broad proceeded to putt-putt her way up the road like she was drivin' a pedal car, AHM was pretty close to her back bumper. Pick-Up-Guy almost took off her front bumper tryin' to change lanes. Didn't faze CPG in the least. She kept right on talkin' and wavin', with drivin' comin' in a distant third.
AHM muttered a lot—ya'll know what she was sayin' so I won't repeat it here. Then she started laughin'. That was new. I had just propped myself up on the armrest to stare out the windshield 'n try to figure out what was so funny when AHM said "That takes truth in advertising to a new level." She pointed at CPG's car and read me the vanity license plate: SKNK BUT.
Add the vowel of your choice. AHM chose A 'tho U would work just as well.
It didn't end there.
SKNK BUT wandered into the left lane behind some old car still wearin' fins at the same time Pick-Up Guy got cut off by an SUV. We all got caught at the next red light with SKNK BUT and Pick-Up-Guy now side by side.
If there was any more of a stereotyped redneck than PUG I don't know who it'd be; dirt-caked pick-up lookin' like it just lost the last round of the Monster Truck Rally at the Coliseum; old cowboy hat with the straw brim frayed and crimped and rolled; tattoo on the forearm hangin' out the side window; three-day growth of beard; and jaws relentlessly masticatin' a chaw of tobaccy.
How did we know it was tobaccy? 'Cause he kept leanin' out to spit. And each spit was getting' closer to SKNK BUT's windshield who probably wouldn't have even noticed a big ole' gob of crap 'cause she was still yappin' and wavin'! Then AHM saw his vanity license. EAT MUD.
Did I ever tell ya' vanity plates are cheap here in Virginia?
The old car with the fins roared away in a cloud of exhaust smoke rivalin' anything comin' from that Alaskan volcano. The SUV, on the other paw, barely moved, reducin' the line of traffic to a crawl. EAT MUD managed to cut off SKNK BUT again, screechin' up the road in a hail of dried mud clots and tobaccy spit. SKNK BUT hit the brakes without ever abandonin' the phone (which disguised the blare of horns behind her) and left us stuck behind the SUV which had finally managed to reach an average speed of 11 mph.
Then we saw it. The SUV was sportin' a vanity plate too.
posted by Harrison at 4:28 PM