This Cab Ride Brought To You By The Letters P, F, C, U... Wednesday April 19, 2006

Imagine this. Its 10:30 am. I’m heading to the AMA on 17th to deal with the three head dragon that has become my stolen truck. Flag down a taxi by Eaton’s square. Jump in. Exchange pleasantries with the East Indian driver. Sit back and relax. Exchanges some more pleasantries, which eventually evolves into what I think is a full blown conversation.

Except I can’t really understand a goddamn word coming from his mouth, except for the P-bomb, F-bomb and C-bomb. I think the cabbie was trying to complain about people not paying for cabs and/or offering up sex to pay it off. I don’t know. The words “backside” and “no money” were used. I’m still not sure though. Most of the coversation was “P-bomb this, when the chick said she’d F-bomb this and then another C-bomb.” I’d like to know what we talked about, but I was in sheer awe with this man’s usage of the F-P-C bombs. It was like the verbal equivalent to the Dresden firebombing.

See, I’m not one to get easily offended by foul language. I’ve spent my fair share of time with RigPigs, Construction Works, Teenagers, the Irish, some Newfies and my Mum. But this guy put Tony Montana to shame. It’s been ten hours and I’m still reeling from the experience.

And the worst thing about the whole story is that the more I think about it the more I realize he ripped me off. It seemed the ride up there was five dollars more than the ride back.

Sonovabitch!

Categories: The-Humourous, The-Craziness,

Commenting is closed for this article.