You see the sign advising you to “Keep it Kleen”, so smug in its own superiority, threatening you with a heavily disproportionate fine for littering from behind the shit-eating grin of an intentional malapropism.
You know it must be destroyed.
After unscrewing the sign from its perch along the telephone pole, you gleefully toss it into oncoming traffic. Unsurprisingly, the driver of the car you toss it just feet in front of sees you do this and slams on the brakes as hard as he can, causing the rear driver wheel to lock up just as it rolls over the thin aluminum sheet, causing it to be dragged against the rough asphalt of the street for several yards.
The driver immediately throws it in park and angrily exits the car, revealing himself to be a well-muscled man of no more than thirty with long brown hair sporting an undersized Anti-flag t-shirt. He cannot be taller than five foot four, so you believe that, inch for inch, you’ve found the angriest person in New Orleans and managed to make him angrier.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, asshole?”
“Fucking the government,” you say solemnly.
The punk driver does not smile or laugh. Instead, his expression seems to grow even angrier and his breath becomes heavy and labored. Just as you think he’s about to attack you, he shouts “Damn the man,” jumps back in his car, and spins his tire out over the sign before speeding away.
You retrieve the sign from the road and place it back on the sign. Too much anarchy is dangerous.