Bob was having a bad day. Actually, it had started the night before, when his wife had told him he was 'selfish in bed'. She had prattled off a bunch of stuff about him never listening to her as well, but by then all he could think about was how threatened he felt, and how unfair she was being. "I always ask you if you enjoyed what we just did as much as I did." He pointed out, trying to keep resentment and defensiveness out of his voice, but evidently without sucess.
She had simply said "Fine" and rolled over. What was he supposed to do with that? He remembered thinking that computers and women had a lot in common. They would both fail to respond to you and wouldn't tell you why. He wrestled with the blankets for a while and eventually fell into a troubled sleep and, and when he woke up, his mood had not improved.
He left the house in the morning without speaking to his wife. He crept his way down the hairpin turns that were the price he paid for the view from his deck. When he got to the freeway, traffic was as bad as it always was, and the new kid had forgetten the donuts again, so he spent the morning with an overcaffeinated stomach, and a mood to match. When his new assistant screwed up a report that was due that morning, he had flung it back at her, telling her she was as useless as teats on a bull.
She had complained to the boss, and Bob had been required to apologize for using abusive language, but secretly thought that it was the T-word that had got him in trouble. He certainly had said worse to male subordinates without all the drama. The report hadn't went well either. All in all, a day that would be better when it was forgotten.
Still, he couldn't help but think his problem with his wife was going to be waiting for him when he got home, so he was even more on edge than he usually was when he joined all the other lemmings who crammed themselves onto the highway at the same time as he, changing lanes without signaling, sometimes cutting him off. One woman airily waved him off when he honked his horn angrily. Somehow, that was even worse than being flipped off. He didn't even rate an obscene gesture.
When he began the slow climb up the mountain to his underwater dream home, he swung a bit wide on one turn and came perilously close to a car coming the other way. The agitated woman driver shouted "Pig!" at him as he passed. He barely had time to shout "Bitch!" back at her before they were no longer in shouting distance of each other. Somehow, shouting at her made him feel better, and he accelerated with more vigor than usual through the next sweeping curve. Too late, he saw a pig standing in the road, and struck it dead center, totaling his car.
Causes David Beemer Supports
Wife works as an advocate for Seniors. Sponser a child through World Vision