The Baron first encountered this rare act of assmasterism in Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love, and fucking terrible pussy drivers (sorry PA, The Baron doesn't pull punches). It was a quiet afternoon on a blustery winters day. The sun gleamed off The Baron's elegant vehicle. The fates however, had conspired against The Baron. A subaru of some kind was blocking the left lane by driving at exactly the speed limit.
The Baron thought to himself "we'll see about that." Gracefully he crept up to the rear bumper and laid on the horn thinking "In Boston we don't tolerate this manner of shit". A feeble beep came the reply. The Baron quickly checked his rearview, there were no nearby vehicles. A horrible sinking sensation chilled The Baron's supple butt cheeks and sent electric twinges up his spine. The beep........had come from the subaru.
A wave of revulsion swept over The Baron and his stomach spasmed violently. A cheesteak sandwhich and five Arizona tall boy ice teas sluiced between his clenched teeth and soaked the wheel and dash. Tears came to The Baron's eyes as he dry heaved. Never had The Baron encountered such an immensely powerful pussy. The subaru slid to the left, finally, and The Baron floored the accelerator, quickly zipping past. He did not check the rearview mirror until hours had passed.
The Mass pike brought some comfort. The other drivers seemed to sense what had happened and formed a close flying V around the Baron-mobile guiding him back to Boston, where something so cowardly as the wrong direction beep is punishable by death. The Baron breathed a sigh of relief upon entering his garage but couldn't help himself and glanced furtively up and down the street outside, shivering as he did so.
To this day The Baron has never forgotten the humbling he received in Philly and still wakes up screaming, thinking he heard a faint, limp-wristed beep, only to cry himself back to sleep.
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