Live Acts of Passionate Aggressiveness.

I bet one thing that happens all the time if you are a tollbooth guy is that some smartass pulls up and rolls down his window, all smiles, and there is a live act of fellatio going on right there.

And you're like, "Oh, this!?" Because how many times has this happened to you already? Like ten times since you've been working there, at least. (Three years.)

He wants you to be just blown away by his audacious behavior. You're thinking, "This is not audacious even a little bit." Doesn't "audacious" mean basically the same as "original"? If so, then he isn't even close to audacious.

And is the girl fat? Always. Well, perhaps not always always, because sometimes she is skinny yet gross. And is the guy fat and hairy? Always always.

Not that it should matter, technically speaking, whether the guy is hot, but as long as you are going to be visually accosted with live acts of fellatio it is nice that the guy not be distractingly fat and hairy. And, it goes without saying that it would be sweet if the girl was way hot--like how the girls are in the stories from that other tollbooth guy, Carl. Who is a liar anyway. Proof: The girls in his stories are hot every single time, and they always give him a live act of fellatio too, which would be uncomfortable, if not completely impossible. How would he reach it through the booth window and all that? Please, Carl.

But so here's the part that you just can't take. The fat hairy guy already thinks it's a pretty clever thing to have a live act of fellatio happening right there, but to double-up his cleverness he goes, movie style, "Keep the change."

Today (or rather, tonight, seeing as how it's three in the AM) hasn't been a good day for you, because not even ten cars back some jag-off paid with all nickels, sticky nickels. Plus, earlier today your ex-wife called to tell you that your daughter didn't make the choir, which is bullshit because she is easily as good, or, no--better than those rich lawyer-daddies' girls with their professional lessons and all that crap. And so you're thinking, "Oh no way, hairy fatty. Wrong tollbooth guy, wrong day. This is a thing I just can't take!"

So you say, "Oh, I can't keep the change. It's against the policy," and you leave the guard-arm down. He mumbles, "Well give me, quarter, and, or, er." And this is good, you congratulate yourself for this: "Sir, I'm out of quarters. Is it ok if I give you back two dimes and one nickel?" You totally have quaters though, lots. I mean, it's a freaking toolbooth, what do you think?

The guy, "Yeah, just! Yeah, fine!" And the girl has raised her hand over her head, to hide her face, now buried in fat hairy lap. Cause what she thought was going to be a quick little experiment in exhibitionism has now stretched way way past the time limit of comfort for quick little experiments in exhibitionism.

You give the guy a nickel--one of the sticky ones--and a dime, and oh man! You dropped the other dime? Dang! "I'll get that sir." He's like, "No just! Get! Just! The arm!" He's flapping his arms like as if you didn't know what the guard-arm looks like when it's raised. Girl's face is still smashed into a very deflated lap. She's crying. Fatty had said it would be "real funny." Who's laughing now?

Press the button. You watch the guard-arm slowly raising up, like it's erect, you know? Like it's a symbol of your victory.

"See ya, live-act-of-fellatio guy, and you can suck my dick."