You were the teenage or twentysomething little idiot driving—if that's what you could call it—on Paseo de Valencia in Laguna Hills the other day. As you veered into my lane and cut me off unexpectedly, I saw your spindly little arms flailing about madly. What the hell? You had drumsticks in your hands, and you were headbanging and playing air drums while your knees did the driving. What a fucking idiot! As I followed behind you for a few miles, on and on you steered, changing lanes and weaving through traffic—totally engrossed in your pretend musical career. If I see you drumming away on the road again, you litle shit, I'll call the cops.
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