The Reverse Honk


I am totally one of those people who, if given three wishes, would try to wish for a billion more wishes. And one of those wishes would be the ability to perform The Reverse Honk.

There are these two a-holes who live in my neighborhood – one lives on my cul-de-sac a few houses down and the other, well, I don’t know where the other lives. But anyway, semantics. Every morning, these two buckets of awesomeness do the same thing: they honk needlessly and incessantly right outside my bedroom window.

The first happens around 5:45, about one hour before I wake up. It’s a guy in a minivan, and as he turns into the alleyway behind my house he starts honking in a two quick burst pattern. Honk honk! Honk honk! Honk honk! Even with my window tightly closed I can hear each blast of that horn clearly and loudly. The alleyway turns into a small road leading to some houses and as he drives away from my window, the honks growing fainter in the distance. Relief starts to seep into my bones. I snuggle down deeper under the covers and peek a glance at the clock. One hour to go. That’s plenty of time.

Then, just as I feel the sleep start to completely engulf me, it comes back, somehow louder and sharper than before:

Honk honk! Honk honk! Honk honk! Honk, honk! Honk honk!

It’s him, coming back up the roadway and honking his little heart out. I vow to one day go outside and get a look at his face. Maybe get a clue as to what his f*@#%g problem is!!!!

And one day I do. I’m outside early, throwing away a bag of garbage after an unpleasant early morning cat incident.  I see a dark blue minivan driving fast up my street, its wheels so small it looks comical. I turn away and start walking back to my house, cursing my cat for waking me up. Suddenly, behind me, I hear it. Honk, honk! In a flash, I whip around. It’s perfect timing; he’s turning into the road behind my house, and his hand is jutting forward, merrily tapping away at the horn. I am a deer in headlights – I can’t do anything but stare, open mouthed. He turns to me and in that second I remember every morning this bastard woke me up. I’m instantly pissed and I can feel the emotion cloud my face. I give him a very deliberate and admonishing scowl, and in return he smirks (really, not smiles, smirks.) and leans into that g.d. horn. This time I get an extra one thrown in for free: Honk honk hooooonk! Then, laughing, he revs his engine and drives away. Each subsequent honk is another jab in my ribs.

Amy, 0.

S.O.B. in minivan, 1,672.

The second honker is a woman who lives a few houses down from me. Every morning around 7:00 she drives from her house to the house across the street from mine. Then she proceeds to sit there and honk. And honk. And hoooooonk. For as long as it takes the children inside to run out with their little backpacks on and clamber into her rusty four door sedan. Once, she was honking for ten minutes. Ten minutes. At 7:00 in the morning.

How does one become so rude and thoughtless? How can that woman not think to herself: Hey, wow. That honking noise is actually really loud. And when pressed repeatedly, it’s quite grating and obnoxious! Hey, another thought: maybe instead of sitting here and honking, maybe I could get out of the car and walk the fifty feet to the front door. This is bananas!

So, back to my wish. Every time this happens (every day) I close my eyes and wish with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my being that I could Reverse Honk them.

Basically, I wish that with a snap of my fingers, I could somehow rewire their car so the next time they go to honk their horn, it honks inside their car.

Can you picture that? I would love to see their faces, their expressions. I imagine them lazily, almost sleepily going to push their steering wheel. Then, HONK! Would they jump up in their seats, only to be stopped by the seat belt? Would they scream? Would they look around in a panic? Would they tentatively try it again, only to be scared again?

That sh*t would be loud inside a car. Really loud.


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