2005-04-28 - 7:12 p.m.
The fastest family drives a minivan, constantly tailgating, waiting for that opportunity, left, right, doesn't matter, they are the fastest family. Maybe it's some kind of suicidal thing, filled with regret, hating their lives and their kids, not caring if they all die, working out all that aggression in their driving. I don't know. All I know is they need to be the fastest.
I saw the fastest family today, roared up to my left at a red light, inching out in front, and I knew immediately what they wanted, to zoom off on the inside curve, cut me off and steal my lane. (the left lane being for left turns only at the next stoplight.) The fastest family underestimated something though, the hour or two I spend every day playing dance dance revolution. My ability to move my foot from one position to another when a light flashes is unmatched. I'm like a goddamn rat trap when that thing turns green, left left right, brake brake gas! The inside curve and a few extra cylinders wasn't enough for them and their gaggle of little smelly nose-picking bastards. They had to squeeze in behind me.
And so, today will go down in history as the day I smoked the fastest family. I may see them again, passing on the right in the highway, sour, wrinkled expression and sunglasses, couple of brats in the back pulling apart a spongebob doll, but I won't let it get to me, because while I'm maybe not the fastest, I'm a dance champion.
Who are you calling a control freak? Shut up.
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