“… you fucking cunt.”

I have been called a “racist,” I have been called a “racist anti semite,” I have been called a “honky motherfucker,” I have been accused of being “prejudiced against black folks,” and of “disrespecting” someone, in a retail environment, and those five insults were just the ones spoken to my face.  “I’m not prejudiced; I hate everybody,” everybody, that is, who exhibits asshole behavior, behavior to which I take grave exception, without regard to race, creed, or national origin.  I have gone off on blacks, Hispanics, Hebrews (“Don’t call me a racist anti semite, you fucking asshole.”), and lots of white people.  Fuck with me and be prepared for some righteous rage or, on the other hand, I can be one of the most polite persons you would ever want to meet.  It’s all up to YOU, Bud or Budette.

About 4:00 A.M. on a Sunday morning, of a Holiday weekend, a 4-wheel-drive “yuppie station wagon” pulled up to the front door of the 7-Eleven at which I worked.  It was a warm, summer evening, and the driver, a criminally handsome dude, about 30 years old, had his window down.  Through the windshield, I could see a beautiful blonde babe.  She got out and headed for the door, looking better all the time.  She was one hot mama and I was looking forward to talking to her, and ogling her, as she paid for her purchase(s).  I said ‘good morning’ and she asked me where the tonic water was located.  I pointed and said, “It’s in the far corner, with all the other mixes, on the bottom shelves, under all those bottles of wine.”

TIME OUT.

The previous morning, less than 24 hours before, the owner of the store came in early to stock wine and mixers on that wrought iron thingy in the corner.  He made several trips with a full hand cart.  If we had it, it was on those shelves.

START THE CLOCK.

She stood in front of the rack for a long time, then said, “You’ve got everything EXCEPT tonic water here.”  I said, “I’m sorry, we must be all out of it then.”   (Every word of both sides of the conversation was being heard by her husband, outside.)  She said, “Could you check in the back room?”  I said, “No, I’m sorry, if it’s not right there, we must be all out.”  She didn’t say anything else, but she started pounding her shoes, which must have had leather soles and heels, as loud as if they were hob-nailed boots.  Bang, bang, bang.  She rounded the corner, headed for the door, pounding her shoes and exhibiting the most evil look of hatred that I’ve ever seen, ANYWHERE.  Her face was TWISTED in anger so much that she was a completely different person, and UGLY.  As she was passing, directly opposite from me, she turned her head and said, “Get a life.”  I immediately yelled, “Hey, fuck you, bitch.”  One beat later, I said, “Blow it out your motherfucking yuppie ass, you fucking cunt.”  She got in the SUV and they left.  Never heard a word about it.

 

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