My drive to work through the ghettos and the grottoes of this fair city washes up oh, so many lovely specimens of our species to my consciousness.
This a.m. I'm hurtling between the speed and school zones when a light stops me. While sitting there waiting, I spot a black-clad cowboy, wearing flip flops and a black Stetson with a fancy silver-concho band about the crown. He's sucking on a stub of a cigarette as if it contained the breath of life and bopping along the sidewalk, jamming out to something on his headphones.
Coming up beside him on the left is a gang-emblazoned "no parking" sign. He keeps bopping, but as he approaches the sign, he eyes it suspiciously.
Apparently that sign must've whispered somethin' impertinent to that lone ranger, 'cause he wheeled on it and slammed it an audible right hook on its back side, leaving me to finish the drive to work stunned at the insanity lurking everywhere.