I’d like to offer a sincere apology to the confused-looking gentleman driving past my local Butcher shop yesterday early evening in a silver coloured Ford Focus.
I was standing on the pavement minding my own business and thinking about my favourite types of cheese, when I saw you approaching round the corner and then on toward the square in the centre of the village. Believing you to be a good friend of mine who I love to abuse relentlessly, my brain instantly initiated “Maximum Offensive Friend Protocol.”
I didn’t just go for a subtle, disrespectful finger. No, I committed to the full, two-handed, frantic windshield-wiper wave, both hands proudly displaying quivering and ecstatic V’s aimed in your direction, I might have even done a little bounce on my heels at the abuse.
Frankly, I was a beacon of pure, unadulterated joy.
It was only when you got within twenty feet that the chilling realization hit me:
You were not my good friend Mike and you looked absolutely nothing like him.. Apart from maybe your eyes being slightly too far apart like his.
Makes him look like a drunk alien if we’re honest.
At this point, any normal, well-adjusted member of society would have lowered their hands, laughed awkwardly, and pretended to inspect a nearby shop window, maybe inspect the selection of fine artisanal cheeses that the grocer offers in his fine establishment. But alas, I’m not ashamed to say I panicked a bit and lost all control of my fine motor skills.
Having already invested 100% of my physical energy and dignity into a full-force insult of that magnitude, my animal brain felt it would be a personal defeat to just stop. So, it made the executive decision to double down.
I maintained locked, unblinking eye contact with you through your windscreen, kept waving the fingers with even more frantic intensity, and then UNWILLINGLY transitioned into an aggressive crotch-thrust motion that quite frankly, in hindsight I’m very, very ashamed of.
I watched the progression of emotions on your face go from mild confusion, to deep-seated concern, then on to sheer survival-instinct terror as you engaged your central locking and accelerated away at some quite considerable speed.
Please rest assured I am not a threat. I’m simply a man whose friends only think I like them if I’m consistently horribly abusing them.
I’m admittedly a horrible person who shouldn’t be trusted to walk through the village unattended, and you have my deepest apologies for my actions at this time