Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction

Dallas Snow by Sue Blair
-----------
-A sequel to The Cat in the Bag
(another story of losing one's temper)

I was visiting my old roommate Cathy in Chicago, ten years after we
had lived together. She was lead singer in some sort of trippy
electronic moog folk band. We were talking over drinks in a hole
in the wall. I hadn't seen her since we were roommates.

She said, "You don't have to answer this, but have you lost your
temper since you buried Xavier the cat in a snow bank?"

I said, let me tell you a story. 


It was earlier this year that I traveled to Dallas on business and,
of course, it snowed while I was down there. It snows about once
a year in Texas, if at all.

The car rental guy said, "I advise you to buy the extra insurance
on the car (as the car rental guys always do), since Texans don't
know how to drive in the snow."

The man was right, People were driving as fast as they normally did,
at the same speed around curves, keeping the same distance behind
other cars. And they were getting into accidents. The roads were
completely clogged.

In the evening, I had finished checking out the fabulous Mexican
chow and the museum IMAX theatre offering and was driving down
the middle of downtown Fort Worth at about 1am. The road was
completely empty of cars. There was about an inch of snow on the
ground and flurries fell in the night. They were flying directly
at my windshield, looking like a giant flower, with the edges
moving toward the center in a non-stop motion, new edges being
continuously created.

I was passing through a flashing yellow, when a car ran through the
flashing red on the right.  I knew I couldn't stop, so I jammed on
the accelerator.  I almost made it, but the other car crashed into
my right rear quarter panel. I spun around about three times as I
watched everything whizzing by in a blur. Finally, my car stopped,
facing the intersection. The other car had also stopped in the
intersection, the right front quarter panel smashed to hell.  A young
tall blonde man was using the drivers' door to pull himself out of
the seat.  Not a bad-looking guy. He was clearly having trouble,
so I ran over to help him. I slipped and fell on my right knee.
It hurt like a bitch.

As he was staggering toward me, I noticed that he had a partially-
full whiskey bottle in his right hand.  I realized- he isn't injured,
he's drunk off his ass. Of all the brazen motherfuckers. He said,
'Are you all right?' and at that moment, all hell broke loose and
I totally went off. I kicked his kneecap and backhanded him in the
face as he went down.

I screamed, 'You motherfucker. I could have been killed! You drunken
asshole!'. The next thing I knew, I had him by the shirt front with
both hands. I was slamming his head against the side of his car,
calling him every name in the book, when I realized that he was
blacking out. I knew I had to stop then, or he might die. I left him
propped against the side of his car in the middle of the intersection
and drove off, hoping a cop would come by and help him out.  I was
sure to leave his drivers' door open so that the car would be as
illuminated as possible. Later, I realized that I could have taken
his wallet if had wanted to, and wondered why the thought hadn't
occurred to me then.

When I returned my car, I told the rental guy that it had been
damaged at the hotel while I was sleeping. He said, "It's a good
thing you got the extra insurance, Texans can't navigate even a
parking lot in the snow".


Cathy said that Vanessa owed her money on a bet. The bet was whether
or not I would really have let the cat die, since the outcome was
spoiled by Cathy intervening. Vanessa had bet against me. Though
I think Cathy has more faith in me than I have in myself.