The Scene: Twisting country road cuts through center of picture. Bright, sunny day. Birds flying overhead. Woodchucks grazing happily at side of road. Man staring in bewilderment at cat in apple tree. (Moving on…)
The Protagonist: Woman in car. Light auburn hair. Medium build, slightly overweight. Traces of mascara on cheek from make-up application en route to work.
The Victims: A large group of very perturbed drivers in a snaking line of cars.
The Spectator: One very contented llama.
Random Extra: One fly sitting awkwardly on back of driver’s seat.
Double-yellow line. She looks behind her to make sure her following is growing. Thirty-five miles per hour. The speedometer had read a constant speed for the past three and a half miles. Smiling, she turns on the radio to drown out the sound of the blaring horns and angry motorists. The man wonders if a ladder would be tall enough.
Dashed line. Her side of the road. Eyes narrow. Hands clench steering wheel even tighter. The front wheels align with the dashes on the road. The accelerator pedal begins its descent. Sixty miles per hour. The speedometer stays steady. The woodchuck continues grazing happily.
Turning lane. She hesitates for a moment. Decision made. Speed steady at forty-two miles per hour. Impatient man. Truck passes. Sirens. Rearview mirror. She watches as county policeman tickets driver. The fly ponders the meaning of life.
Fade to purple.
You, dear reader. Have just been made privy to the actual workings in the day in the life of a participant in The Line Game. The Line Game is a game played by many discontented peoples in this grand world. The rules, you see, are simple. Drive slow in a non-passing zone. Drive extra-fast in passing zones. See how many people you can make unhappy. Why would you want to? That’s simple. Everyone else does it. Except that llama… he’s pretty content.