Filed Under (Microfiction) by Tansy on 09-02-2013

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Baxter had rigged a cheesy LCD display band across his back window (so that he could send messages to the cars behind him). “Not so close!” “Watch it!” “Slow down!” “Stop honking!” – anything that he could competently type with one hand on the keypad near the dash. Most people just flipped him The Bird, but it seemed polite. It would be rude to fire the rocket launchers out of the trunk without warning.

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