I'm not a hero, I just have a short fuse and a foul mouth

Scene:

I'm walking to work on a rainy Monday morning. Things I am full of: bloat and ennui. Things I am not full of: food, because I am on what I am refusing to think of as a diet. Rather, it is a program of self-denial that aims to allow me to achieve a socially mandated, unrealistic ideal of beauty that I am not strong enough to pretend I don't care about, or disciplined enough to attain. In short, I am not my usually sunny, Pollyanna-ish self.

As I walk across the road at the lights I am preceded by a heavily pregnant woman with a toddler in a pram, and followed by a man in about his early thirties. As we cross to the far side of the road the red light starts to flash. Immediately, the shiny new BMW that had been waiting at the lights starts to inch forward. The hatchet faced matron in the car is obviously in a rush to get back to having nothing better to do with her life but demean shop assistants, because she instantly starts shouting at us to get off the road, and - just as the extremely pregnant woman walks in front of her car - gives us a series of blasts with the horn. 

Now, none of us had been dawdling. The time from red light flashing to this woman becoming irate was infinitesimal. And the pregnant lady was really very pregnant, and obviously somewhat shaken at being shouted and honked at so aggressively. The man and I, as if with one mind, turned to the driver of the BMW and unleashed a fairly appalling stream of profanity, accompanied by hand gestures that I didn't even know I knew. This was profanity that seemed to spring from somewhere primeval. This was genetic level linguistic abuse.

The BMW driver looked suitably shocked at being spoken to in such a way, and it felt really good. In spite of the fact that I had just spoken words in front of a toddler that she probably shouldn't have had to hear, I couldn't help but feel that I had done my small part to avenge the petty wrongs of the world. To stand up for the defenceless. To work off some of my Monday rage at someone who deserved it. The sun shone. The birds sang. All was well.

And end scene.