Wind was howling in a vacant street when the city clock marked the end of a gloomy day. A big black dog standing nearby winced at the sound. Its crooked nose sniffed the road, awaiting some sense of food.
Several blocks away, a green cab with three white stripes on its roof was parked adjacent to a broken street lamp. Its dimly-shining headlights cut through the darkness in a way a knife would do to butter. Inside, a man was leaning against the wheel. His curly beard rested slightly on the ignition key. He glanced sideway at a bar’s sign bearing the capital word “IDIOTS” in pink.
Under the sparkling sign lied a brown wooden door whose hinge was hung loosely on the wall. The door swung open violently. The loud rhythm of “S&M” escaped into the otherwise silent distance. Three drunks stepped out, hands holding drained bottles of beer, shoulders to shoulders, singing along to the music. The dog took one quick look at them then barked nonstop while chasing the three staggering men into the corner. Without hesitation, they jumped into the green cab, panting.
Through the rearview mirror, the driver could be seen smirking, but he politely asked them where they would like him to drop them off. They finally told the driver where to go after a moment of hazily looking into each other’s eyes. The driver beamed at the three drunks. The corner of his mouth twisted. He started the engine, waited a few seconds and turned off the car.
“Alright, guys, we’re here,” said the driver, who kept his back to the drunks the entire time.
The first drunk looked at the “IDIOTS” sign and spoke in an almost inaudible tone.
“Ey, theez eez exactly where wee wanna go!”
He happily tipped the driver $10 and got out of the cab, waiting for the other two. The dog barked at the sight of the fumbling man. The second drunk, a little soberer than the first, laughed at the angry dog, his teeth glaring.
“Look! We met the exact same dog earlier today! How lucky we are!”
He happily tipped the driver $20 and got out of the cab, waiting for his last friend. The third drunk, however, remained still in the car. He turned to the driver with a look of utmost anger in his face. He raised his hand high in the air to slap the driver but missed it and instead, hit his hand hard against the handlebar.
Worried that the drunk had realized that the car hadn’t moved an inch, the driver hastily asked the drunk whose hand seemed to be needing an ice bag, “What was that for?”
The drunk yelled, “Control your speed next time, idiot! You almost killed us!” Yet, he tipped the driver $30 and stepped out of the cab, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Now you guys ARE idiots,” muttered the driver, who was showing his full teeth out of his curly beard.