A Message from an Immoral Mechanic
Ha! I laugh and I grin, it’s almost a sin, watching as more cars are pulled in. Ha! I lean on my stool, holding my tools, laughing at the line of fools. Ha, Ha! Do they know that their actions have made me so rich? That what they’ve done could’ve been stopped in an itch? Oh! Think of how sad I would be in my shop if each driver suddenly agreed they should stop texting and driving and blaring their toons and speeding through stop signs on warm afternoons. Oh! Think of how bored I would quickly become If my tools no longer ringed, tapped, or hummed While working on endless and hopeless repairs on the cars of people who neglected to care. Oh, no! What if, while driving, he kept his eyes on the road? Or she kept her phone on Don’t-Disturb-mode? Surely, I’d lose business if they used their heads and decided a text wasn’t worth being dead. Surely, If shown the dangers of food at the wheel, they’d pull to the roadside to finish their meal. Yes, Surely, Each action to prevent needless wrecks would lengthen their lives but shorten my checks. So, I sit and I wait with my bank account ample, hoping that parents won’t learn to lead by example, and turn down the music and drive facing forward, or realize the weight of their job as a transporter. So, I hope kids watch to keep with traditions where they drive without seat belts and get into collisions. I smirk in the corner, tallying crashes that came after choices made in just flashes. And, so I enjoy how each wreck brings me gain For I’m the Devil Mechanic on Distraction Lane.