Dear Facebook Diary (12/12/12)

Today at about 1:30 PM as I was driving on 25th Street going back to my apartment after finally mailing my check to pay my utilities, a crazy old lady ran into the passenger side of my coveted Chevy Malibu. Other than having some spilled coffee on my passenger door my car was completely undamaged, and if this crazy lady owns a car then hers is undamaged as well. Because when I say that she ran into the side of my car, I mean that she physically ran into the side of my car with her body.

I was slowing down to stop for a red light in front of this gas station where my dad buys his fishing bait when I saw an old scrawny lady in sweatpants anxiously standing on the curb, waiting to cross the street. As my eyes fixed forward on the stoplight I heard a loud thud hit the opposite side of my car and I instantly slammed on the brakes. I estimate that I was still traveling at a speed of about 20mph when she hit my car and the first question that popped into my mind was, “What the fuck is this crazy bitch doing?” I mean, there were other cars behind me and another one next to me, so it isn’t like she couldn’t see that she was clearly running into oncoming traffic. Also, why the fuck was she running? She looked to be about 70 or so and she couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds, yet she caused my car to shimmy when she hit it because she was running with so much goddamn force. Luckily she wasn’t sucked under my wheels and crushed underneath the constant appreciative hug between my Malibu and planet Earth.

I opened my door and got out. I looked over the roof of my car and saw the ancient Mumra from Thundercats cussing to herself while looking at the coffee that she spilled all over the side of my car.

“Holy shit I’m sorry! Are you okay?!” I asked with fear in my voice.

“Argle bargle flemming floob coffee nurgle snurks!” Shouted Mumra.

“Are you hurt? Did I run over your feet or anything?” I asked with much worry in my voice as I came around to the side of the car where she was standing.

“Flim jimmies grobble coffee grams urber snootch whilms!” Mumra continued to rant.

“Whew. I’m glad you’re okay. Look, I’ll buy you another cup of coffee.” I was genuinely thankful that I hadn’t squashed the old bitch.

“Coffee? Yibbly goojacks narffle the garthog… coffee?” Mumra was pleased with my offering.

I reached into my pocket with the intention of taking out my debit card and walking into the gas station to buy her a new cup of coffee. Luckily I found some cash instead. This is rare because I almost never carry cash. I counted how much money I had and generously gave her half of it. In total, she received one dollar from me and I kept the other one. She didn’t even finish crossing the street; she turned around and walked back in the direction that she had come from. I hope she made it home okay and I hope she enjoyed her fresh cup of coffee.

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