Stoplights of Delusion

I was waiting at an intersection and wondering what I'd blog about tonight, when I heard a voice.

"Hey Man..."

I looked over at the car beside me, a rust-colored Rally Sport idling rough. Behind the wheel a skinny guy with no front teeth grinned at me wide-eyed, while the fat woman riding shotgun pulled burgers out of a bag.

"Ya got yer cam'ra?"

"Sure," I said, playing along. "It's in the back."

"Yeah, well ya wanna see a MURDER!?! Suddenly the young hillbilly grabbed his heavy partner by the throat, and began shaking her to and fro in mock-throttle. Tinfoil gave way and lettuce flew as the burger tumbled down the woman’s Tony Stewart t-shirt. Amazingly, she didn't seem to mind. She positively beamed at her toothless suitor's cleverness, aping signs of pleasure and distress as if working through an ols stand-up routine. Together, the backwoods duo laughed uncontrollably, her head jerking back and forth, his splintered grin mugging for the imaginary camera.

One lane over, I chuckled nervously, my fingers poised over the automatic door-locks.

"Don't do that, man", I offered following up with the only thing I could think of, "I haven't had lunch yet..."

Cackles erupted in the old Camaro as the red light above us turned green.

"See me in a hour boss," the man said, releasing his date's jugular and grabbing the spongy black steering wheel. "I'll give ya a 'SCLUSIVE!"

With that, Skinny floored the old muscle car and peeled out with a screech into the distance. I could almost still hear the woman's laughter as her beefy hand wave goodbye in the hazy blue smoke.

I waved back half-heartedly, confused as hell, but no longer wondering what I would blog about.