Road Rage

I have a regular fantasy while riding my bike. Usually inspired by a motorist who pulls out in front of me or opens their door so I have to swerve around it into the traffic behind me.

I imagine myself crashing into the car, my bike crumpling and my body tumbling over the car and onto the road. I can see myself living as a cripple, while the motorist has gotten away with a measly fine for negligent driving.

I have become hardened and bitter, obsessed with revenge. I acquire a gun and assorted sharp instruments. I track the motorist down and wait outside their house in my wheelchair. When they appear I tell them who I am and what they did to me.

I can see a mixed look of detachment and suspicion on their face. I pull out my gun and they begin running away. I shoot them in the back of the legs and watch them fall to the ground. Blood spurts into the air as they are trying to crawl away wailing miserably.

I wheel myself slowly up beside them and hack off their limbs one by one. When the police show up I no attempt to escape, I am just waiting patiently beside the dismembered motorist.

I imagine myself speaking calmly to the journalists, justifying my actions to the world. I finish the interview by encouraging others to take violent revenge against negligent motorists.

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