Bastards!
I will catch them if it's the last thing I do. Think they're so smug in their smug red Holden. Just wait, I will catch them. If it's the last thing I ever do.
The car is in my sight. Has never left. Speeding along the highway at over 100 mph, I'm getting closer. They can't get away. Not from me. My primered rust-covered Blazer complains at the abuse, but I don't even notice. Don't even care. All I know, all I feel, all I see is that sporty crimson vehicle in front of, inching closer by the second. They don't even see it coming. See me coming. But just wait, they will know soon enough.
After what feels like eternity, but has probably only been a few minutes, I am upon them. Completely upon them. Their tail lights not even visible under the hood of my truck. With a sudden jerk, our bumpers collide. If they didn't see me coming, they know I'm here now. Spinning slightly, they regain control and start to pull over towards the side of the road. I don't let them.
I nudge into their back side, right behind the driver's side door. With the sudden spin upon them, they make things so much worse for themselves by slamming on the brakes. With another impact upon their vehicle, it slides off the side of the road and begins to flip, rolling ever so ungracefully down the embankment into the foilage below. Clouds of dust from both thier tires on the pavement and the dirt being swept up from the side of the road begin to rise up into the air, making the view of my destruction hard to view.
I pull over my SUV and quickly jump out, running after them. Half sliding, half jogging, I manage the stoney decline down to them. As I get closer, I notice thier beautiful smug car not so smug anymore. Collapsed and mangled, dented and broken, glass lying everywhere. The car is lying upright, but you can tell it's seen much better days. Bastards.
I reach for the car door and find it unable to open, bented in upon itself snuggly. Ignoring the inconvenience, I finish breaking out what's left of the window with my pain-ignoring hands. Grabbing the driver by his collar, I jerk him from the wreckage and throw him like a slab of meat to the ground. He's not moving yet I kick him once in the gut for good measure.
I reach back inside the car and grab the passenger by the arm. He doesn't wish to exit the vehicle, but his fear is no match for my adrenaline. Unwillingly, he's yanked through the window. Unthinkingly, I forearm him in the nose, my elbow catching him in the ear as his head rotates with the blow. He's out cold.
I toss the passenger down beside his buddy and turn back to the scrap heap that used to be their vehicle. Quickly scanning the carnage, I find my goal lying behind the driver's seat. A toupe. My toupe. Silky blonde strands, slightly waved. All extravagant. I saved up for two weeks to purchase my headpiece. Two long, agonizing weeks, for once I saw it's beauty, I knew it would be mine. But then these bastards had to go in and buy my toupe right from under me. When the clerk at the counter told me they had purchased it, these jokers who were leaving as I was entering, I knew they would never get away with it. Not with my toupe.
Cradling my hair piece in my loving arms, I slowly ascend back up to my Blazer and head for home.
