Letters to People Unlikely to Respond: Assclown Smoker Apology

To the girl in the red Ford Explorer on Penman Ave:

As I pulled up behind you on my motorcycle and we waited on the traffic light,
I could tell there was going to be a confrontation.

You were rocking the "Commuting Smoker" pose- window down, mostly-consumed cigarette held stylishly out the window, occasionally flicking the butt to increase the ash content of the streets in Neptune Beach.


This isn't her, but it is the same situation in the same place.

I sat behind you watching, knowing what was coming, like I have seen it a thousand times before...
One last drag as the light goes green, then the butt sails out the window, to add to the huge collection of discarded smoker trash at every turn lane in North Florida, and I guess, most of North America.




Yep- you reeled it in for a minute for that final lungful of tars and nicotene, then held it out the window at arms length and let it drop to the street.

You. Fucking. Slob. Bitch.

I know you couldn't possible have known that not ten minutes earlier I'd just had a similar encounter out on Atlantic Boulevard where another smoking asshat flipped his butt out the window where it impacted my windscreen then bounced up, narrowly missing my face.
I spent the next 10 minutes cussing smokers in general, until I wound up behind you.

And this callous move pushed me over the edge.

"Hey! Lady. This isn't your ashtray! Pick that up!" I shouted.
The light had changed and traffic started to move...

I could see your shilouette in the car- you gave the palms-up, shrugged shoulders-
"What?"

Oh. You're busted, and you want to play dumb.
No problem. Let me expalin.

I know you were surprised when I rode around you and stopped my bike in front of your SUV, hopped off the bike and walked to your window, which was still down...

I picked up your still-smouldering butt and flicked it in your window...
(...and you should be thankful I threw it down toward your floorboard instead of your face.)
"You dropped this, you slob. The street isn't your fucking ashtray."
I went back to my bike, dropped into first gear and rode off.

Here's where the apology comes in.

I apologize for using profanity at you.

I'm sorry you have a nicotene monkey on your back.

I'm sorry you're such a slob.

I'm sorry for the people you live and work with.

I apologize for wanting to live in a place without heaps of cigarette butts in the streets.

See you next Tuesday.

Sincerely-

The big mean guy on the motorcycle behind you.


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What the fuck is wrong with you people?

I could give a flying fuck what kind of poison you sniff, snort, shoot, inhale or rub into your belly. Do what you want. Really. I could give a fat rat's ass.

BUT QUIT USING THE STREET AS YOUR FUCKING ASHTRAY.

TBG- ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE