On the way to work today, I ran into a rather curious situation. Below is an account of the incident as I saw it. Maybe you've had something similar happen to you, maybe not. But to me, this is worth writing about.
A painting truck (that had already cut me off) stopped in the middle of the road and started reversing towards me. I beeped my horn (somewhere between two and 14 times), as to inform the driver that he may hit my low-end sedan, and he immediately stormed out of the car. He came over to my car and informed me that if I honk "that fucking" horn again, he would take "that fucking horn" and shove it up my "fucking ass." It was here that I realized I had reached a crossroads, a fork in the road if you will. This man had almost struck my insured vehicle with his own vehicle; I responded with an instinctual reaction to the possibility of being struck by said vehicle; and he offered an invitation to my reaction. Basically, I had two choices in this given situation. Yes, there were several variations that could be made; however, there was still really only two coices.
This man was obviously angry. There's a certain level of anger that engulfs a heterosexual man (at least that's what I assumed he was based on fact that he yelled, "nice tits, wanna fuck?" to a female pedestrian right after cutting me off) when he bypasses wanting to kick your ass and wants to shove something up it instead.
Things seem surreal in the morning when you have an addiction to coffee and haven't actually had any yet, so I wasn't entirely with it at this point. I went with my first instinct and confirmed that, yes, it was only ten after eight in the morning and, yes, I was being threatened with something being forced up my "fucking ass." I wasn't in a doctor's office or in a Republican senator's office and yet there I was, one wrong move away from being sodomized on my way to work.
The end of the story is anticlimactic: I gave the man (I think he would be called a "top" or "Foley") some kind of wave and, in return, he sort of tilted his head (the way my dog Maddie does when you say the word "jeep"); he then turned around, loudly went back into his truck and sped off to touch up some trim or roll a room or blow some early morning lines . Luckily for both us, nothing was shoved up my "fucking ass", because animalistic sodomy on Leverington Ave. at 8:10 a.m. could've had far-reaching consequences that may have haunted the both of us for years to come.