Old man, you nearly ran me down. Yes you - dentureless, sporting two pillars of teeth. Your fender thugged my economy rice tapau. The red plastic bag spinning in your wake. Yes the light changed and you swerved at me. Yes I slapped your taxi behind. With what right do you screech, stop and step out? Sit back down unfashionate man, your rage will never match mine. Move on and whistle a gospel through your gaping mouth. For you erred in missing this body nubile. I am the devourer of this, such rice in my hand. I would swallow the detritus of you whole and spit you back out - no, there is no mercy here - but only so that you may live out the rest of your endless, vehicular, loveless life.