Saturday, October 6, 2007

What Else Can This Be Called: "The Spitter."

To the Precious Little Snowflake in the Parking Lot,

You should be thanking God or the Spaghetti Monster or whatever deity you prefer that you are not actually one of my students. When you came barreling through the middle of the parking lot this morning on your bike with no care for drivers or other students on foot, rocking out on your iPod, I'm sure it never crossed your mind that someone would actually be driving through that very same parking lot. I especially enjoyed the way you cussed me out after you almost ran into the front bumper of my vehicle. (Please note, Cupcake, that YOU almost hit me. I was obeying the rules of the road, perhaps you've heard of those before? Or maybe you were absent that day of first grade.)

While I could not hear your words, the emphatic look on your face and the frantic movement of your lips indicated you were probably inventing new and colorful descriptions for where I could shove it. But you did something that impressed me even more than your creative language. Something that made me fairly quiver in the shadow of your immense gonads. You actually slowed down until you were even with me (cursing at me all the while) and spit on the hood of my car. At first, I could not believe that you actually did this! Were you raised by wolves? No wait, that's an insult to wolves, allow me to rephrase. Were you raised by Jerry Springer guests? Do you actually kiss your mother with that mouth? Although I'm sure you (mistakenly) believe that you know all there is to know about everything, and I'm sure you are still basking in the glow of your self righteous glory (How dare I be in that parking lot while you were trying to speed through the middle of it!), let me pass along a little piece of advice to you.

It is probably NOT wise to spit on cars pulling through an employee parking lot. Professors and instructors (those who teach the classes that I'm sure you rarely attend) park in those lots. While I'm sure it will come as a shock, those are the people who often drive through and park in employee lots. Perhaps you looked through my windshield and decided that I did not resemble any of the people who teach those classes you sleep through. If that's the case, I salute your powers of perception (and stupidity). However, I will submit to you that you are awfully lucky that you are not in any of my classes. Had you been, we would have a serious problem and the remainder of the semester would not be looking good for you.

In closing, I wish you well in all of your future pursuits. I'm sure that you'll enjoy relating this story to some co-ed at an upcoming party as you try to feel her up while plying her with strong drink and distracting her with tales of your bravery against evil (but law abiding) instructors like myself. For her sake, I hope that she is not fooled by your pretty words. Clearly, your mama did not teach you anything about respecting others, so I'm sure that co-ed is better off in the long run without your inebriated gropings and the inevitable attempts at a "real relationship" that are sure to follow. If you want to have good relationships with anybody, I'd suggest you take a moment and consider common courtesy. It will serve you far better in the long run than anything of the things that you have likely avoided learning so far.

An Instructor in Need of a Car Wash