Dear Sideswiper,
We haven’t met, but I’m the guy whose 2005 Chevy Cavalier you scratched and dented the other night. No problem. I’m sure it was an accident. And I’m sure that the note you left was either swept away by a gust of wind or some 17 year-old who thought it would be hilarious to have me come out in the morning and find my car with a full-length, paint-peeled scrape across its side.
Kids.
And I’m sure you felt horrible at having done this, so much so that you’re probably still reeling from the knowledge that you hurt something of someone’s who never did a thing to you–ever. I know that must burn terribly in your conscience, so please, please let yourself off the hook.
After all, it was my fault for parking my compact car perfectly between the white lines in the space marked specifically for “Compact” cars. I should have anticipated that someone later that night in an oversized SUV would try and stuff their moon-lander into a spot half its size.
I should have anticipated that someone whose mother clearly did Robitussin shots while she was pregnant would not be able to properly park a car without ruining the door of another.
I should have anticipated that someone like you, someone whose very existence causes a little boy in Taiwan to cry himself to sleep each night because his American father wants only to send money–not actual letters of support and encouragement for a freckled Taiwanese kid with one leg longer than the other.
I should have anticipated someone like you who lies on his back in the bathtub, forcing his limp penis up as high as it will go above the water with his hips submerged, singing “Raspberry Beret” over and over as if the song might help him spring an erection like it did when his parents sang it to one another after they fucked in front of him on the dinner table, his mother’s ass particularly red and blistered afterward.
In fact, I should have known better and parked my $185-a-month-for-the-next-ten-years Chevy Cavalier in some other spot where someone like you, someone who will most certainly out-live the millions of worthy children dying of AIDS and Cancer and Swine Flu, would not have hit someone’s car and leave without so much as a note of apology.
But like I said, no hard feelings.
All the best,
The Murky Fringe
