There’s one emotional loose end to tie up, the question that everybody seems scared to ask, but some do anyway: What’ll you do if they catch the driver?
I’d like to be all Buddhist about it and let the lesson center on how precious life truly is. How being a kindhearted person pays unimaginable dividends when push comes to near-death shove. And how karma will do the dirty work for me.
That’s all true, but edited down for public consumption. I’m sure you can handle the raw answer to that question: The driver had better fucking hope the police catch him first, because if I do — and believe me I will — I’ll string him up by his balls. Then, after kicking every last one of his teeth into the street, I’ll ask him how he’ll run away from assault charges now. I’ll close with spitting in his fucking face as he cries, “Why did you do this to me?” The Jersey Curb Sandwich seems too harsh? Fine. Being the spiritual badass I am, I’ll be content to just publicly humiliate him, day after day, for the cowardice of refusing to take accountability for his actions.
— Comebacks, Dead Man Talking, Philadelphia Magazine (June 2009)
Hope your last two years have been as cursed as mine have been fulfillingly great, you soulless coward.