Have you ever woken up in a mangled automobile, soaked in your own blood and urine?  Neither have I… no thanks to all those bastard semis I see littering Americas highways with 15 car pile-ups and country music.  This past weekend, I was one of the many true citizens doing my part to pollute the earth by driving hundreds of miles and refusing to carpool.  All was going well, as I had my A/C on high with the windows down to better expel CFC’s to the thirsty atmosphere, when I was hastily brought back to reality.  I hit my brakes as a stray semi veered from the right lane into mine, mere feet ahead of my front bumper.  I can only assume that once the yokel retrieved his fumbled Skoal from the floorboard, he reassessed his position in my lane and proceeded back to his own.  Mildly annoyed at the prospect of being donkey-kicked into oncoming traffic by someone with more eyes than teeth, I stepped on the accelerator and left the truck in a thick black haze of progress.  Now if this had been an isolated incident, than I would’ve been more than happy to draw hasty conclusions and stereotypes about truck drivers.  Luckily for me, more incidents were yet to come on my journey and completely validate my hate.  Not 30 miles down the road, another big rig felt it necessary to drive by Braille and once again forced me out of my lane.  At this point I was trying to think of a concise, yet effective, term for my disgust of “F-ing Truckers.”  Thankfully, I’m as brief as I am witty, so I’ve elected to henceforth call them all Fruckers.

Fruckers come in all shapes and sizes as denoted in the following pictures, but are easily spotted by a few unmistakable traits.  First and foremost, their species seems incapable of self cleaning and personal hygiene.  So they bathe in a rich goo dispensed within seedy gas station bathrooms, with the insistent promise that you’ll reek of name brand fragrances for pennies on the dollar: these are the standard “Filthy Fruckers.”  Furthermore, Fruckers hate all who aren’t like them, this is demonstrated as they only congregate with others of their kind: these are the typical “Cluster Fruckers.”  Additionally, most come from the mysterious and loathsome region of America known as the South.  Many of the products of this horrid locale practice the time-honored tradition of incest: and these are therefore the characteristic “Mother Fruckers.”  Their populace is vast and mostly unrestrained, except of course by sentences comprised of multi-syllabic words.  You yourself may encounter new species everyday, as the above examples are in no way the extent of their diverse phyla on earth.

So, whenever you see any of the many assorted Fruckers out there on the mean streets, be sure to do what I do.  Show your ass, hit the gas, and make the pass…  That way you escape certain death from their looming tombs on wheels and have the added bonus of spewing noxious carbon monoxide to an eagerly waiting planet.

HONK, HONK, ALL YOU FRUCKERS JUST GOT BOOFED!