Zach Rants: Shitty Pedestrians

A Special Place in Hell: Shitty Pedestrians

Welcome to a Special Place in Hell, we here at Slapped Ham feel it is our duty to help dole out punishment to those that have it coming. We do this in the best way possible, with non-hateful words that do not directly affect them. In Special Place in Hell we will discuss just how certain people should be treated when they go to hell and why they deserve such a fate. (We will for the sake of this article assume hell does exist and that it is taking recommendations)

A Special Place in Hell: Shitty Pedestrians

An example of some shitty pedestrians

Calm Streets Boston

Group of people: Shitty Pedestrians

Population: 2 out of every 3 pedestrians

We all know a shitty pedestrian when we see one. They are the people that cause green lights to become meaningless. The people that cause PTSD flashbacks to GTA. The people that always appear to be learning about the streets for the first time. Although there are many different forms of this type of person, the general result is the same: anger. I mean why make something as simple as crossing the road appear to be as complicated as making a funny chicken crossing the road joke. (I don’t have one, I promise) If you are crossing the road and a car is needing that space to carry on what it is doing, then move faster, that’s it. Simple, done, do it. Please do not mosey on across the road acting like you do not see the cars. They are 2 ton death machines that spew toxic fumes and make loud noises.

I KNOW YOU CAN SEE AND HEAR ME!

But if you can’t, then stop whatever is distracting you from being able to do so. Yes, in the United States pedestrians have the right of way, but that doesn’t mean you get to be assholes about it. Oh, and don’t dare say that pedestrians get to do it because  cars are jerks to them. Cars get to be jerks to pedestrians because upon impact death isn’t likely for a driver. Think of it like a bully and one of those classic nerds you see depicted in cartoons. The bully gets to mess with the nerd because the negative ramifications are minimal for self harm, while the nerd is lucky every time he escapes without a scratch. So pedestrians, quit being jerks, it will cost you at some point.

If you want a more profound reason, well, you bastards cause traffic to get worse. When you go at inopportune times you cause the flow of traffic to falter and increase the chances of serious accidents. That’s pretty selfish of you guys.

I digress, we are here to talk about those that don’t take the above advice to heart and instead continue on being shitty pedestrians. Let’s get to it.

Upon first arriving in hell the shitty pedestrian, hereby known as SP, will be given an outfit of neon green with blinking lights attached. That way even in the darkest corners of the world they would stand out like a sore thumb. Once the outfit is donned the respective demon will take you to the hell equivalent of the autobahn, a German highway with no speed limit. It will be a whopping 666 lanes wide and will feature cars from Death Race 2000, Death Race the remake, Twisted Metal, and Dale Earnhardt behind the wheel of Hitler’s car. (Dale will be on loan from heaven if he is not in hell. Hell has not returned my message about his current whereabouts.) All of these cars will be driving however the hell they want, even so far as purposefully hunting you down. There will a green light for each individual lane and you must stop when told or else death will be automatic. Upon death, a person will remain on the road as road kill for as long as it takes out clean up crews to get to you. While you wait though, the drivers and other pedestrians will be able to, and in fact encouraged, to trample and run you over as well.

This process will continue 1 day for every time you were a totally shitty pedestrian. Yes, that is arbitrary, but you sort of really have this coming if you are a shitty pedestrian. You may not be the worst kind of person, but I sure encounter y’all a lot more than the other should be occupants of hell.

Written by Zachary Swartz