"get off the road you slut"

Apparently you should NEVER SAY 'GET OFF THE ROAD YOU SLUT" within the earshot of a carload of fourteen to sixteen year old girls because, if they're those kind of girls, at least one of them'll be looking for a rumble and'll try to beat you up.

Which is just what happened to Chris and I tonight. I blame Chris for saying it, but I really didn't help because I said to one of them "I don't know you so I wouldn't presume to call you a slut." Which shouldn't have been at all incendiary but apparently presume is an offensive word if you don't know what it means and two of them promptly set about trying to incite a riot.

This got to me no end and I heard myself say to the skinny little bitchy tryhard one: "DON'T you be coming all up in my face with that attitude! I don't give a shit what you think you heard, you obviously need your hearing checked cos you sure as shit ain't hearing the real world through those ears".

Obviously not the right hting to say in that situation because as we attempted to walk away, the two of them chased after us and the little fat bleach-blonde wearing the powderblue hoody came and shoved me, pulling and pushing at me as she gripped onto my jersey. So I, without even thinking, latched onto her arms to stop her jerking me around which made her feel totally self righteous in yelling at me "don't you EVER touch me bitch, don't you EVER touch me EVER!" even though she'd initiated the horribly wrong touchy-feely moment.

When skinny saw that I was holding fatty back she got super mad and came at me yelling "don't you EVER touch her bitch, don't you EVER touch her bitch!" and in my attempts to fend them both off without hurting either of them, fatty managed to punch me in the jaw, twice. They were lameass punches that any kind of drunk little punk could throw but MAN did they get me mad. I was THIS close to decking them, to fucking losing control and decking the little dickheads, not just giving them a wee punch in the face, but driving my fist into the back of their skulls, when Chris finally intervened.

For his efforts he got hit in the kisser by the short fat one. We somehow managed to walk away from them, laughing, while the fat one restrained the kicking and screaming skinny tryhard one who was wearing a black racer back singlet, boy's boxer shorts under low riding 3/4 length boy shorts, way too much mascara (she was so in my face that I could see the lumps and flakes stuck to her lashes), and one of those baseball caps that MCs often wear, only hers was pink and white - colours which held no affliation to any baseball team I'd encountered.

It was so ludicrously ridiculous that I fell down laughing when we were out of sight.

What a night. What a motherfucking "get off the road slut" evening.