To the angry, white Toyota Carrolla driver out there on N. Sheperd street:

Hello. I'm sorry I did... whatever it is that I did that so upset you. You see, I didn't do anything on purpose to make your drive-time commute more difficult than it had to be, so I didn't understand why you floored your crappy 4-block piece of shit car to "zoom" past me while giving me a dilapidated and weak middle finger, which at first, with your wrinkley hand up in the air next to your rawhide face and frizzled $8 hair-style made me think that the Cryptkeeper was driving next to me, until you opened your mouth to yell something to me (sorry, I didn't catch it because there's 20 feet and two pieces of pneumatically-sealed glass between us) and I saw your ugly and small pointy teeth and realized that it was some feeble old lady trying to tell me I was doing too well of a job trying to drive slowly and carefully home from the supermarket.

Life's too short to be that much of a bitch, sweetheart.