Freddogg Off The Chain

I was creeping like a motorized stalker a few feet a minute being funneled by highway workers that could have cared less and why should they. They are working while I am “inconvenienced”, they are wearing orange vests that read, “Flagger” I am chilled listening to Sirius radio.

The orchestrated bottle neck, three lanes down to one, with cross traffic jumping into the parade. I turned it into a sociological learning experience figuring it will make the dead time go faster.

I look off to the left into a grave yard I had never noticed. ‘The dead people are moving faster than me, ”I think, or perhaps a sign, ”why not drop in and have a cold one?” A fancy short bed hydraulic dump truck pulls up next to me with lettering that reads, www.1800gotjunk.com, it’s a national franchise for people clueless on how to get rid of their own accumulated junk. What’s wrong with yard ape sales? Post a sign and they will come, waddling across your front lawn. Just write "two dollars" on a few worthless items and they will wedge them into the trucks of their Buick Century’s.

There is a warning sign, ”Uneven Pavement!” and I think,” Thanks for the heads up dog!”
Popeye’s had a Family Special on Chicken and Biscuits and I think, ”I like bad food but even I won’t dive so deep to do family night at Popeye’s. "

I saw a fat girl to my left driving a ratty assed Chevy Corsica, she was bobbing her head up and down, swearing she was cool, smoking a nasty cigarette and nibbling on bagel chucks. “A gestaltist” I thought, "one who exhibits all the traits of a syndrome that make up the final product of personality, in this case, ”Nasty Fat Bitch!”

But wait, cutting across traffic is the “light weight wanker” in racing cap, driving his BMW convertible. I mumbled to myself, ”Jerkoff!”

Finally, the scenery changes after 45 minutes, as I come up to the orange arrow trailer, which is pointing to the right, just like Paula Jones said of Bill Clinton. There is a New Jersey license plate, all beat up and shit and I know it has to be a joke and I start to like the highway crew better, a step up from not at all.

I have a theory that if you hand a decent kid a skateboard he immediately turns into a little obnoxious asshole and if you put a white hard hat on some moron who can’t even back out of his own driveway without riding over the electrical box and trashing the mailbox you have just created the highway engineer, and yes, it does take three of them and six “flaggers” four hours to have a light bulb change lanes.

I spot a grungy full grown sheep dog riding in back of the porta John flatbed. He is gray and white except for all that nasty brown fur around his mouth and he is lying next to those big black “suck the shit out” hoses and, say it ain’t so, but if you’ve ever walked a dog in a field of fertilizer, you know it’s a, roll over turn on, for them.

There’s a sign on back of the truck, ”It’s not just a job it’s a “Dudy”.

I’m almost through the neck of the bottle but not before two low riding seniors with a “support the troops “ribbon on the back of their Buick cut me off, but the joke is on them because “Shit Faced Shep” is staring right into their souls. "How you like me now?"

Life is never a “waste” of time, only some people.

Peace Freddogg