Not Jessica McGann

I prolly shouldn’t be telling you this, but my friend made my day with this little anecdote.  The friend, who shall remain anonymous, recounted how a car, trying to make a left-hand turn into a driveway, and too impatient to wait for traffic to pass, opted to make the turn too soon, driving up over the sidewalk to avoid traffic and very nearly killing my friend.  There were no apologies, no repentant shrug, and my friend, shook up from proximity to death or injury, proceeded with indignation to his destination where he asked his hostess for an egg.  “An egg?” she said thoughtfully, “I only have this one that’s way past its expiry date…”

Egg in hand, the two of them walked down to the offending driveway and launched their weapon, watching it explode in messy liquescence over the driver’s rear window.  Instead of fleeing the scene immediately after, they opted for a casual walk-away since they both have asthma.  Besides, as my friend reasoned, they didn’t look like likely egging suspects, both of them well-dressed professionals in their thirties.  With asthma.  Who would point them out as vandals?

“But, oh, Jessica!” he mooned, his tone rich with emotion and even - could it be? – nostalgia, “I have never, never, felt so alive!”