I Am Traffic Cone!

I dare you to hit me. I. AM. TRAFFIC CONE!

Today me and the Hedgehog decided we would walk all the way to Wal-Mart because he was bored and I had stayed up all night and needed physical exercise to make it 'till bedtime; it's something we do pretty often, but don't think  much of. Well, it was raining, and this definitely made a difference.

Thing is, it wasn't raining that hard when we left, so I only wore a hoodie and took along my obnoxious orange poncho in my pouch; halfway there the heavens opened up and so much rain issued forth I was soaked before the poncho went on; for the rest of the day my attitude changed: I hate being wet, particularly cold and wet. When we walked down the side of the road, I silently defied every single car to run me over, thinking to myself, "Bitch better recognize. I AM traffic cone!"

Every time they successfully made it past me, while I was still glaring defiantly at their vehicles, I would smirk to myself and think, "Pfft, that's what I thought... bitch." This isn't the first time a decidedly ghetto temper has made it's way into my actions; and no, before you go thinking I mean ghetto like black person, think to yourself about every person you've ever seen come from a tough neighborhood, no matter their race. There's a certain accent and manner you acquire... I had that manner, the attitude, and the accent; and it happens a lot when I get mad.