Upon exiting the public transportation, the path to work is relatively quick and unnotable, usually. Fortunately, the monotony of every day's sameness can be easily shattered, as it was with honking cars and angry citizens shouting out of their vehicle windows. An observer of the citizenry takes note.

On a very wide and busy street — 7 lanes in total; 3 northbound; 3 southbound; a turn lane separating — the fluid dynamics were being disturbed by a blacked out (murdered) SUV in the middle of the southbound lanes. It appeared that in heavy traffic the driver of the murdered SUV noticed the turn they wanted to take, politely past the point of being able to turn. At the point where most decent members of the citizenry admit to themselves the minuscule mistake of missing a turn and go ahead to turn around, this driver stopped cold in the center of the southbound lanes. Traffic was backed up behind them, with vehicles swerving left and right to avoid the backed up cars, cursing the driver of the SUV as the passed. Eventually, the traffic passed the SUV and it was able to move into the turning lane. Fortunately, though there were many near misses, there appeared to be no accidents.

It just so happened, as happenings happen, that after the murdered SUV turned into the parking lot that was so immediately important that life and limb of periphery citizenry should be risked, I was within 20 feet of where the black SUV with its blacked out windows and rims parked. Perhaps today's good deed would be to simply explain to Mr. Braindead Blackout a bit about driving etiquette and safety of the citizenry, some of whom are decent, kind, sweet, delectable candies.

As I prepared to mind the business of others, a door of darkness rolling opened. Expecting or perhaps preparing for a blockhead with more brawn than brain wearing the trademarks of wannabe badassness that matched the murdered SUV — haircut, clothing, skin accessorization, etc. — I paused my gait while I recalibrating when a tiny woman exited. The duty of suggested civility would cause one to not change address because of the appearance of the shell encompassing a nut.

“Excuse me,” I started, politely trying to get attention. Nothing. “Excuse me!” I shouted, not 5 feet from Dangeress Driver. Still nothing. “Hey, lady!” were the words that caused her to look up.

“Me?” she answered, digging deep into her dictionary.

It was already clear that this was a waste of time, but cause is the reason for the purpose.

“You almost caused a significant accident back there. If it were not for the quick reactions of other drivers, someone could have been killed due to your recklessness. You should be aware of what is going on around you.”

“I know. I can't believe how fast that turn came up. Those people were so rude. Whatever.”

“Yes, but when you realized while traveling with the flow of traffic you would not be able to cross a lane and safely merge into the turn lane, you should probably have driven past the turn and make a U-turn up ahead.”

“Why?” she said with all sincerity in an annoying tiny girl voice.

“Because you quite nearly caused mayhem and death!”

“Huh? Whatever.”

“Whatever? Are you an idiot? A retard? An individual with an intellectual disability?”

“No, I'm hot. So get away before I call the cops.”

You're hot? Did you really just say that?”

“Get away, old creeper,” the idiot she demanded while sashaying away.

Clarification: Technically, with a tiny figure, full, plump breasts, long hair, pretty face and sheer, revealing attire, she would be considered attractive, except for the fact she had a major flaw which negated all of her eye appealing attributes: she was as dumb as Oreos stored in the anal cavity of a prison inmate, and about as useful.

“Hot? You're a fucking moron,” I disrespectfully blurted, embarrassed I was engaging thickness.

She stopped her 6” heels and turned. “My boyfriend's going to kick your ass, fucker!” she shouted, throwing her keys at me angrily. She then walked away, leaving her keys on the asphalt between the two of us.

“Your keys,” I whispered, walking to pick them up.

I picked up the keys and continued my walk to work.

Passing a trash can, the idea of key disposal seemed fitting, but instincts relayed something better was in the offing.

About an hour into a shift of monotonous coffee crushing, Dumb Dangeress entered the establishment. The heart raced. This could get ugly, and the place of employ is not the best battleground when encountering belittled beauty.

“Hi, I lost my car keys. Did anyone turn them in?” she asked a naturally competitive female behind the counter.

“No,” was the dismissive answer, made without asking others or looking where we keep those types of lost items.

“Okay,” Braindead Beauty replied, moving to another associate (the brainwashing is taking hold; another coworker).

“Hi, I lost my keys. Have you seen them?”

No one seemed to have sympathy for this hollowhead. All gave curt answers. I kept my head down, hoping she would leave without recognizing my powerful presence. Eventually, she came my way. No question about it, this was not going to be pretty.

“Hi. I lost my keys. Have you seen them?”

I kept working, ignoring her.

“Hi. I just lost my keys. Have you seen them?” the mouse voice repeated.

She cannot be this stupid. I stopped and looked her in the eyes. I accepted she would recognize a friendly foe looking to save the citizenry. Nothing.

“Really?” I asked.

“Really, I lost my keys. Have you seen them?”

Perhaps it was my magical apron of transmogrification, I had to consider. The possibility that I had aged so significantly in the last hour that I had become unrecognizable was not an acceptable rationale.

Bravely taking off the magical apron, I stepped from behind the counter to no longer hinder Petite Pointless' view.

“Hi. I lost my keys. Have you seen them? Has someone turned them in?”

At this point, any comment felt like it would be incredibly cruel. She was a living, breathing masturbatory toy, nothing more.

“Your head really is there to hold your pretty hair in place, isn't it?”

“I just got it done. Thanks. Do you think you have seen my keys?”

“Have you considered calling an auto service?”

“My boyfriend hasn't paid the car, so they are trying to repo it. If I call a service, it might be repoed.”

“Aaaaah, but at least your hair looks beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she replied, moving on to another associate...coworker.

Taking a quick break, I managed to find the repo company trying to confiscate her SUV with only a few calls. They would give me a reward if I gave them the location. When I said I might have the keys, they offered a bonus.

Within 15 minutes, the repo company had claimed the keys and given a proper reward to one honking the eviless of self-centered driving off the road. It is not often a good deed is properly rewarded, but the universe must be looking to relocate the mister of justy juicy goodness to a compound.

15 minutes after picking up the keys, sirens could be heard converging in the area of the SUV. Customers who witnessed the scene said a tiny chick went off on a tow-truck driver. He pushed her away and her boyfriend came out of nowhere and tried to beat the guy, but was bloodied by a tire iron. The cops came, tasered the bloodied boyfriend, pepper sprayed the tiny hot chick and arrested the tow-truck operator...well, they are there to clean up, the court can sort out the details...though, would the world not be a better place without these two morons...of course, without masturbatory toys, the chemicals of man would make many a man do monstrous maneuvers to release.

One should be grateful when a dangerous dingbat delivering a SUV of death is detoured, especially when the coffee can is filled with a bit more of the cash necessary to reclaim a compound...yet it is an empty conquest.

We pretend all people are created equal. The saying should simply be: “We are all created.” Yet, as dumb as she is, the purpose she serves has more substance than half of the people entering this bean breaking establishment...and half the people behind these counters...still, that is not saying a whole lot...the herd needs thinning.