“Hey, mac, you’re gonna want to take a li’l peekaboo up here in the front seat, huh?”
“What the fuck, dude. You know I’m texting, I don’t—fucking—wanna look at your shit.”
The Taxi Driver frowned. That was a deep cut, but nothing he wasn’t used to. He dealt with hooligans and miscreants all the time. Most of them were haters.
“Nah nah nah nah,” the Taxi Driver tutted. “This…is my lucky penny, my man! Feast your eyes on that!”
“What?” the Passenger gasped, leaning forward into the front seat of the car, sniffing the aforementioned lucky penny with lots of gusto. “Wow, like, I’ve never seen a penny before, dude.”
“Yeah, haha, ain’t that the truth?” the Taxi Driver laughed. Wait. Was he making fun of him? The Taxi Driver shook his head in a tizzy and said that exact thought that was on his mind, the whole wait, are you making me fun of me thing.
“Fuck OFF, dude!” the Passenger shouted, pounding his chest like a gorilla. “I fucking hate people who don’t let me text!”
“Who you texting?” the Taxi Driver spat out, globs of spit flying onto his hands which were carefully aligned in the 10 and 2 position his hand had settled into on the wheel.
“Um…” the Passenger sat there in dull defeat, for there was no one that the Passenger had to text that day because no one liked him due to his irate and boisterous nature that often got in the way of standard hey how you doing, oh I’m good sorts of conversations.
“Dude, you fucking suck,” the Taxi Driver said, waving his hand down as if it helped make a point. “I mean—it’s my lucky penny! Why you gotta be a nimrod about it? Ey, look at me! I’m texting on my phone but not really! I’m such a fucking asshole!”
The Passenger blinked. Was the man just described to him truly the man within? Was this his very soul that had been outed to him in such a brutish fashion?
“HEY FUCK YOU MAN!” the Passenger shouted after much hesitation, punching the Taxi Driver’s seat from behind rapidly.
“Ow! Come on!” the Taxi Driver shouted, trying to swat the punches away but to no avail. He turned around in his seat and screamed, “You gotta cut that out dude, I’m driving us!”
“Yeah, well driving’s not hard you—um—BOZO!” the Passenger laughed like a jock after stealing lunch money. “Bozos like you make me so—oh dude. Eyes on the road!”
The Taxi Driver rolled his eyes. Surely another ploy by this fucking nimrod in the back.
But the Taxi Driver should have listened to him because his not looking at the road caused the car to collide with a brick wall.
“Oh my God!” the Passenger screamed as he scrambled out of the wreckage. “Oh my God! Hey, Fucker—sorry, I just don’t know your name is all—Fucker, where you at?!”
“Here…” the Taxi Driver, also known as Fucker I guess, responded meekly, his hand sticking out of a sheet of metal, all bent and contorted.
The Passenger pulled the Taxi Driver out of the rubble and lowered him onto his back. For the Taxi Driver was dying; his lucky penny had embedded itself in his heart.
“Take it…” the Taxi Driver said, blood pouring out of his mouth. “Take it…”
Not wanting to defy this man’s last request, and also being a person who would never say no to additional funds, the Passenger reached into the Taxi Driver’s heart and like a well trained surgeon, plucked out the Lucky Penny.
“It’s the Luckiest Penny in the world…” the Taxi Driver smiled, his eyes fogging up more and more by the second.
“Dude, this is my fault, I’m so sorry,” the Passenger said, crying for the first time since watching Shawshank Redemption. (The second time he watched it though, he was too busy texting the first time.)
Suddenly, Bill Gates emerged on the scene. He seemed stressed, his armpit sweat stains darker than that of the black heart of the Passenger. He walked up to him with a bag sack of money and handed it over.
“Do you want to be incredibly wealthy for the rest of your life?” Bill asked seriously, jaw clenched so tight that his teeth threatened to crumble into dust at any moment.
“Yeah, sure,” the Passenger said while greedily taking the sack. “How come you don’t want it?”
“Eh, I’m fucking tired, dude,” Bill admitted with a shrug. “That’s all of it, anyways, I gotta go become a civilian.”
And then Bill walked away. Proudly.
The Passenger turned to the Taxi Driver, ecstatic. He was now the wealthiest person in the world. “It really is the luckiest penny in the world!”
“Heh heh heh…” the Taxi Driver chuckled, his voice strained. These were his last breaths. “I set you up you fucking nimrod. I asked Bill Gates to come over and do that to you. If you look in the sack, it’s all fake money. How naive could you be to really think that you had just been gifted such a tremendous sum of finances after such a short period of time of owning a lucky penny?”
The Taxi Driver looked at the Passenger for a long time, waiting for a reaction with bated breath. But the Passenger didn’t really seem to be too upset about this whole ordeal.
“Fuck,” the Taxi Driver grunted. “Does this not bother you?”
“Nah,” the Passenger said. “I mean—you didn’t really give me time to let it settle in—so like—eh, it’s fine. Wait, when did you have time to set this up? We were arguing!”
The Taxi Driver blushed.
“To be honest, I was texting too.”
“You FUCK!” the Passenger exclaimed.
“Yeah I know, I didn’t really want to tell you,” the Taxi Driver cringed.
“Kinda puts a damper on the whole thing.”
“Yup.”
And then the Taxi Driver bled out and died. Yet, like the fake bag of money, the Passenger didn’t really know the Taxi Driver long enough to feel bad about his death. He was an apathetic man, y’see.
“Hey, ASSHOLE!” Bill Gates screamed, strolling back up to the Passenger. “Sorry, we were calling each other names and—“ He caught himself and shook head, chuckling while sucking on his teeth. “Classic Bill. Sorry. Okay.” He took a deep breath. “That is my real money. You now own all of my money. I’m serious.”
“Really?” the Passenger said, holding the bag up in the air as if it made the situation more plausible.
“Yep,” Bill said proudly.
“Why?”
“Because fuck that guy!” And Bill Gates spat on the rotting carcass of the Taxi Driver.
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