And I Am Going To Post The Only Thing I Wrote And Liked Before!

To Whomever Poured Half A Can Of Coke Into My Bike Helmet This Afternoon


Uh, why?

Maybe you were almost done with it and then decided you didn't want any more. School and proper garbage receptacles were about ten feet away. To carry your happy little can of Santa Coke that far would to you, feel like the equivalent of walking barefoot across the Sahara Desert. Couldn't you have just nicely poured it onto the grass, and left the can there? I would have picked it up for you. Hell, I would even have recycled it.

Maybe you didn't want to be a litterbug, and you thought sticking it in my helmet would be a better choice. My bike has a basket for a reason, you know. It is there so that you can dispose of any liquid or solid items you may not want, or you may just want to annoy me with. This is a much kinder idea because, unlike my helmet, I do not have to put my basket on my head in order to go home without it costing me two hundred dollars (hooray for the Coronado Police Department, and their choice to take care of the most threatening lawbreakers).

Maybe you hate me and want me to have Coke in my hair. First of all, that is one strange choice of revenge. Secondly, you suck. I hate all sorts of people but do I ever anonymously attempt to put sticky liquid in their hair? No. That is because it sucks.

Maybe you are just really strongly opposed to bike helmets. I am too. I recognize that for fourteen minutes every day, I look like an idiot. I am willing to accept this rather than face yet another encounter with Coronado's best cat killers. They are mean and angry and bored and if they catch me without a helmet on, I will be fined hundreds of dollars. I possess a grand total of eleven dollars at this point in time. I'm sorry if it bothers you, but I am going to keep doing so until I have a job or large inheritance. Regardless, it is none of your business.

None of these reasons make enough sense for your decision to be one of any validity, which leaves me with the belief that I do not understand you. Maybe no one understands you and you cut yourself. Maybe you are just the epitome of teenagerness. I don't care.

All I am asking is that you dump your shit on a part of my bike that does not need to be affixed to my head. Pretty please.


PS. Fuck you. I get to wash my stupid fucking helmet now.