Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. They’re very annoying, send them along. You’re traveling right behind me as you drive and your headlights are so bright. I can hardly stand to be right in front of you with that horribly annoying glare in my mirrors.
Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. So bright they are, please reduce them. I would change lanes to get away, but the traffic is so heavy that I can’t move. I know you do not want me to go faster; you simply neglected to fix your headlights when you entered the heavy traffic.
Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. I know it’s a dark, cloudy night with no moon or stars, but sir, there are streetlights. Reduce your beams, sir.
Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. I have turned off the main road and still you follow. Okay, it’s darker here, less streetlights, so maybe if I flash my high beams ahead of me, you will see my point.
Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. You must have seen me flash mine and now I have turned onto an even more obscure road and still you follow. Sir, you worry me, now I am scared. Please reduce your headlights and stop following me.
Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. But the worst part is that I have turned into my own driveway and you are still behind me. I do not know you and do not want to. I’m not even going to pull into the garage; I have hit the garage door opener and all I’ll do is run inside once I jump from my car.
Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. I have run in my garage now and though you have left your engine running, I hear you getting out. I do not know what you plan to do now and do not care. You have followed me for the last ten minutes from the school all the way to my house and you have scared me greatly.
Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. I know that they are still glaring away ahead of them as a teacher to an unruly student for I see the multiple shadows you make as you walk in front of them and come towards me. Your face is also as a shadow, covered and hidden so that I may not see your true features. You appear to be as a ghost. I know that you are after me now, but you shall not have me, for I have reached the farthest depths of the garage and have hit another button. The garage door is closing and you shall be locked out. But what I didn’t realize was that the door is slow in moving and you quickly and graciously move under before it closes. You are now in my garage.
Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. There may be a curtain over the garage window, but I still see that annoying glare bounce off the back of my car. As the light comes around you, I can see even more that you look like a lightly featured shadow. I move my hand to the nearby door handle, but my sister has locked the door and I don’t have time to get the key. You move towards me, hand outstretched. You hold in your hand a small blade that gleams in the brilliance of your headlights. As you get near me, I realize that there is nothing I can do. I am now frozen with fear and cannot even move enough to scream for help. You have me in your trap.
Pardon, sir, your high beams are on. The light glares against the windows from the outside so that no one may look in and see what you are doing. I know that my sister will soon be downstairs, having heard the garage door, but having not yet seen me. She will see what you have done and you will not get away from her. As my last sight fades in a shade of red, I hear the door open as my sister, without yet seeing, begins to say,
“You know, you’re high beams are on.”