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Mark didn’t mean to cut the guy off. The man in the pickup truck honked repeatedly. Mark nodded at him: Sorry. But a few minutes later Mark accidentally cut the guy off again. And that’s when things went sideways…
The man raced his truck forward and blocked Mark’s car. With both vehicles now stopped, the guy got out. All six-foot-five and three hundred pounds of him. (If I was Mark I would have considered calling ahead to reserve one of the nicer rooms in the ICU.)
The guy started banging his fist on Mark’s door. Bellowing at him with rage. Inexplicably, Mark rolled down his window:
“Have you ever had such an awful day that you’re just hoping to meet someone who will pull out a gun, shoot you, and put you out of your misery? Are you that someone?”
The man’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“Yeah, I really mean it. I don’t usually cut people off, and I never cut someone off twice. I’m just having a day where no matter what I do or who I meet—including you!—I seem to mess everything up. Are you the person who is going to mercifully put an end to it?”
The man’s demeanor changed instantly. He became calm. Reassuring.
“Hey. C’mon, man. It’ll be okay. Really! Just relax, it’ll be okay. Everyone has days like this.”
They talked for a while. Nicely. The guy got back into his truck. He waved to Mark in the rearview mirror. And drove off.
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James' World 2 
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