Quweet Quweet

The following true story transpires in the span of about 8 seconds.

While in traffic the other afternoon, I watched something remarkable. I sat waiting for the light to change, music of the profane ringing through my speakers, thinking on god only knows what, when flying by me in the right lane comes a car. Black in color, black in containment, thumping the whole way. As it passed, my eye was drawn to the rear window because of something spelled out there upon. "QUWEET QUWEET" in an italicized, script-like font was written in white vinyl. What could that mean? I gazed upon the car as it motored by me in bewilderment. While staring at this peculiar thing, I noticed that the car was doing something out of the ordinary. The driver seemed to have very little control over the vehicle and began swerve. It was shortly there after that the car mounted the curb, slammed on the breaks and impacted into a light pole. The driver threw open the door and exploded out of the car. Angrily yelling into her cellular device, she cursed the person on the other end, cursed the traffic which I was a part of no less, cursed the car she drove, cursed the light pole, cursed the sky and cursed the cellphone in her hand. She repeatedly asked God to damn all of these objects, casting them into the lake of fire with Satan himself. She, very vocally, made it apparent that it was not her fault and began telling whomever was listening that she was an innocent victim and the blame must be placed elsewhere. Where do you ask? I don't know. Us probably. I wished to linger to hear more and to see the law enforcement officer arrive on scene to take down her account of how she was victimized. Unfortunately, the light changed, and I had to press on. I left Quweet Quweet there on the side of the road, yelling to her gods to punish all us sinners.

I knew then what Quweet Quweet meant.

Retard. It meant retard.