Your Honking Has Shown Me The Error Of My Ways

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Vol 37 Issue 37

Manager Hates To See You Go

DURHAM, NC—Twist 'N' Shout manager Dale Fontana expressed deep regret Monday over your decision to leave the mall pretzelry. "Well, you've been a good employee, no doubt about that," said Fontana, folding up your returned uniform. "It'll be tough to replace you at the register." Fontana added that, should your new career not work out, you would always be welcome back in the growing field of pretzel preparation and retail.

Amsterdam Tourist Can't Find 'Kind Bud' In Phrasebook

AMSTERDAM—While on vacation in Amsterdam Monday, Atlanta resident Brad Haines, 22, struggled to find the Dutch translation for "kind bud" in his Berlitz pocket guide. "Man, I read the entire 'food and restaurant' chapter twice," he said. "It's not in there anywhere." Haines noted that he did at least learn that Amsterdam waiters will not bring the check to the table until specifically asked.

Monkfish Wishes Monkfish Weren't All The Rage

BOOTHBAY HARBOR, ME—A local monkfish bemoaned the culinary trendiness of his species Monday. "It's nice to be the fish of the moment," said the monkfish, avoiding one of the many fishing lines littering his Gulf of Maine seabed ever since the October issue of Gourmet proclaimed him "the new dorade." "And, yes, my flesh is firm, sweet, low in fat, and similar to lobster. But it hardly compares to the pleasures of, say, a nice sautéed tilapia with lime." He further urged people who feel they must consume members of the Family Squatinidae to try angel sharks, which he described as "assholes."

NBC To Add Dateline: Flursday

NEW YORK—Seeking to capitalize on the success of its nightly newsmagazine, NBC announced Monday the addition of Dateline: Flursday to its schedule. "Now, you can turn to Dateline for incisive, in-depth reporting eight nights a week," NBC News president Neal Shapiro said. "Look to NBC as the news leader—Flursdays and beyond." If the new program is successful, the network plans to add Tuednesday and Fritaturday editions.

Woman With Sore Throat Thinks It Might Be Anthrax

NEW YORK—Alicia Dubrow, 23, an assistant copy editor at Shape magazine, expressed fear Monday that her recent sore throat is the result of anthrax. "I haven't had a sore throat in, like, two years, and suddenly I get one," said Dubrow, searching WebMD for information on symptoms of the disease. "I've also sort of had a backache lately, which is weird." Dubrow, who made a mental note to watch closely for reddish-brown sores, said she dropped by the Shape mailroom last Friday to grab a box of rubber bands but does not recall handling any packages.

Dad Immediately Hands Phone To Mom

SAGINAW, MI—Emotionally distant father Bill Wolk, 55, immediately handed the phone to his wife Monday upon identifying the caller as his daughter. "Oh, hello, Jessica, I'll get your mom," said Wolk, passing Jessica off before she even asked for anyone. In the past five years, Wolk's most touching display of fatherly affection was a 1996 remark that Jessica "marched nice and straight" with her high-school band in the Rose Bowl parade.

Anthrax Hits The U.S.

Cases of anthrax exposure have been confirmed in media and government offices in Florida, New York, and Washington, D.C. What do you think about the threat?
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Your Honking Has Shown Me The Error Of My Ways

I've made plenty of mistakes in my life, believe you me. But when I do, I try to be man enough to admit it. So, I confess: I really screwed up just now when I hesitated for a split second when the light turned green. I only hope the good Lord and you, the driver of the car behind me, will forgive me. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways.

I can't believe how insensitive I was. I mean, I consider myself a pretty do-unto-others kind of guy, especially when behind the wheel. Sure, there are times when I get a little careless, especially when I'm thinking about something. That's what happened when you so helpfully honked at me. I was on my way home from work and had all sorts of stuff on my mind. I won't bore you with the gory details—just let's say it's about the big fight I'd just had with my wife regarding our daughter Ashley's upcoming surgery.

Anyway, I was sitting at the intersection, trying to figure some things out, when, all of a sudden, the light changed. (Hey, I'm not making excuses. There is no excuse for not hitting the gas the moment a light turns green.) Out of nowhere, I hear this honking. Now, this wasn't a concerned, friendly, "Hey, I'm here, let's move it along" honk. This was one loud, long blast of the horn. This honk said, "Hey, you fucker, just who the fuck do you fucking think you are, anyway?" Only louder. Then, you followed it up with two shorter honks, as if to say "fuck" and "you!" That was the capper.

At first, unaware of my sluggishness off the line, I was confused as to why you were honking at me so vigorously. What could I have done to upset you so much? I thought it might be my back-window sticker. I had one that said "University of Michigan Alumni Association." That was it, I thought: You went to Michigan State or Notre Dame. But then I realized that, no, that sticker was on my last car, not this one.

Then I thought you might be a Chevy driver. I drive a Ford, and Chevy drivers tend to hate Fords. But, no, you're a BMW man, so that clearly wasn't the issue.

Then, I finally realized the problem: I did not move quickly enough when the light changed! I did not act with the speed and instinct of the cheetah, potentially delaying you from making your appointed rounds. How could I have been so inconsiderate? I know what it's like to be behind someone sitting at an intersection for almost an eighth of a second. It's like they're saying to you, "I am number one, and you are behind me! I will take my own sweet time getting to my destination because I care not a whit for anyone but myself!"

How selfish I was!

Oh, if only I could do it all over again. Instead of taking my own sweet time, I would crane my neck to see exactly when the opposite light turned from green to yellow. Then, the moment it turned red, I would count, "One one-thousand... Two one-thousand," and then slam on the gas, peeling off exactly as my light turned green. That would have been the decent thing to do.

I'm sure you must be a doctor, and I prevented you from saving someone's life. Or maybe you're a dentist, and you had to do an emergency root canal on the prime minister of Japan. Or maybe you were in danger of missing the series premiere of The Agency. I shouldn't question your motives. All I really need to know is that wherever you were headed, you arrived .000000013 seconds later because of me.

In the end, all I can say is, "Thank you." I have truly learned my lesson. And because of my misdeed, I have decided that I cannot be trusted behind the wheel anymore. From now on, I will only walk. That's right, I am selling my car so that no one will ever risk suffering the terrible fate you did. I can only trust that this act of contrition will let me get by in life with less guilt. Please, forgive me. Please?

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