Call the president

I rarely “lose it,” especially in front of the children, but I let loose with a tirade Tuesday night that would make a sailor blush.

There’s a lot of stress at our house. I’m leaving for three weeks, and will leave my wife a single mother. She’ll leave in three weeks to join me for our first vacation alone since our honeymoon. My mother-in-law is coming up to stay with the kids (and the prospect scares the shit out of me).

My wife decided that I didn’t need to cook.

“Let me take you out to dinner,” she said. “We all need it.”

So we check out a new steak place owned by a friend. It was delicious. It was pricy. I ended up having a bone-in ribeye, salad, bread, beans and garlic mashed new potatoes – and two Jim Bean on the rocks.

I was well OK to drive. The bourbon was sitting on 20 ounces of steak and assorted other goodies during a mean hat lasted two hours.

It was raining and dark when we left the restaurant. I decided to drive through town, rather than get on the Interstate and get buffeted by the dirty wash from semi trucks.

We were coming up on an intersection near a grocery store when I saw them and hit the brakes.

Three homeless people, all dressed in black, jaywalking from the grocery to their campsite within a darkened city park.

I was going 40 miles an hour, five over the sped limit. I slammed on the brakes just in time not to mow over two of the three.

“You dumb motherfucking cocksuckers, do you know how fucking close you came to getting run over, you fucking fucks?” I screamed as the window rolled down. “What the fuck are you fucking fucks thinking? You’re all a bunch of dumb sonsabitches.”

It scared the shit out of me. Then it dawned on me; had I ran the assholes over, I would have probably gone to prison for manslaughter, accounting for the two drinks in my system.

I was now stopped in the roadway, continuing to cuss; the third homeless guy walked behind me, and joined the two others now standing on the median _ a large woman and a black man (yes, dressed in black, crossing at a point where there were absolutely no lights).

The woman was giving me the finger.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you saw them,” my wife said. “I would have hit them, I never saw them.”

The next day in the car, my daughter brought up the episode and said, “You should write the president and tell him there should be a law that lets you run over people who hawk-walk illegally.”

Seems perfectly logical to me.