He was the monster hiding in my closet, and I was the idiot who opened the door. Now I hate horror movies, for two reasons. One, I am a chicken in every sense of the word. Secondly, I can make out the plot holes like holes in swiss cheese. Plot holes are like the birth child of Justin Beiber, and Twilight, to me. In other words they are not pretty, and in fact disgust me. For example why don’t they just run away, instead of going in the creepy basement that an individual disappeared in. There is also the stereotypical horror movie characters, the jock, the beauty, the one on drugs, they righteous one who is stupid and tries to save everyone, and occasionally the smart one who is like a rabbit and runs away quicker than you can say, “ I think
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I had just finished rolling up my window from signaling that I was turning right, when I noticed that a car had parked next to me. The car was a single stain glass window in a room filled with clear ones, as there was no parking space there. It was then that I noticed that the individual in the car was pointing at the middle school, looking at me, and trying to say something. His hair was dry wheat, with a matching mustache, and he wore glasses. There was also a younger child in the back seat, and a woman who appeared to be his mother in the passenger. Me thinking nothing of the sorts, stepped out of my car and popped my head over to give them what assumed to be directions, as it was like eating a cactus to reach over and roll down my window on the far …show more content…
“Do you know what dashcams are for?” He voice was booming cannon fire, immediately causing me to freeze. My face contorted in confusion like raisin, as I was wondering what he was saying.
“Excuse me, what sir?” I inquired, the confusion evident in my voice, and rather unattractive facial contractions.
“Dashcams. Do you know why we have dash cams? They are for people like you who cut others off.” His voice was accusatory, like a attorney questioning a witness. I had never seen this man before, nor had I ever experienced road rage. I was sure he must have the wrong person.
As threatening as a kitten I said, “I am sorry sir, but I didn’t cut you off.”
He glared, his eyes filled with poison, as he accusingly said “Down by the corner of 108.”
It was then that his voice turned to ice, that the hairs stood the back of my neck. I slowly came to realize that I had been followed for miles. Through the maze of twist, and labyrinth of turns, I was just a mouse who was caught in a mouse trap. It was then that a whirlwind of emotions went through me. I felt confused, angry, and mostly a foreboding sense of worry and fear, as I slowly said “Yeah I didn’t cut you off... sir.” I slowly prayed in my mind that this would solve the situation. Like most situations though, it was like challenging Kim Jong Un’s
I had just finished rolling up my window from signaling that I was turning right, when I noticed that a car had parked next to me. The car was a single stain glass window in a room filled with clear ones, as there was no parking space there. It was then that I noticed that the individual in the car was pointing at the middle school, looking at me, and trying to say something. His hair was dry wheat, with a matching mustache, and he wore glasses. There was also a younger child in the back seat, and a woman who appeared to be his mother in the passenger. Me thinking nothing of the sorts, stepped out of my car and popped my head over to give them what assumed to be directions, as it was like eating a cactus to reach over and roll down my window on the far …show more content…
“Do you know what dashcams are for?” He voice was booming cannon fire, immediately causing me to freeze. My face contorted in confusion like raisin, as I was wondering what he was saying.
“Excuse me, what sir?” I inquired, the confusion evident in my voice, and rather unattractive facial contractions.
“Dashcams. Do you know why we have dash cams? They are for people like you who cut others off.” His voice was accusatory, like a attorney questioning a witness. I had never seen this man before, nor had I ever experienced road rage. I was sure he must have the wrong person.
As threatening as a kitten I said, “I am sorry sir, but I didn’t cut you off.”
He glared, his eyes filled with poison, as he accusingly said “Down by the corner of 108.”
It was then that his voice turned to ice, that the hairs stood the back of my neck. I slowly came to realize that I had been followed for miles. Through the maze of twist, and labyrinth of turns, I was just a mouse who was caught in a mouse trap. It was then that a whirlwind of emotions went through me. I felt confused, angry, and mostly a foreboding sense of worry and fear, as I slowly said “Yeah I didn’t cut you off... sir.” I slowly prayed in my mind that this would solve the situation. Like most situations though, it was like challenging Kim Jong Un’s