On my weekly errands this morning, pulling out of the post office and some geriatric fat guy went all postal on me... for?... heck, I don't know.
Could it be he was in a hurry to get to Walgreens to refill his Depends prescription and didn't realize we were in a school zone and that is why I was going 25 in a 50 zone? Is he an ex-employee of Ford, unfairly dismissed for spending an inordinate amount of time in the broom closet with Fred, the Janitor and then when he saw my Ranger truck he went off? Was I a victim of mistaken identity and he thought I was Vincent D'Onofrio from SUV and was mad because he got confused as to which version of SUV I was on?
Your guess is good as mine, but he sure was mad. He tailgated me all the way down the street, honking his little horn and followed me into the Conoco parking lot where I was grabbing a pumpkin spice cappuccino and $10/gas. No physical blows came to hand, although he jutted his substantial midsection in my direction and prevented my passage to the store. "Where are you going, little girl," he taunted me, "I've beaten up bigger people than you in my sleep." I swear that is what he said, but I can't be quite sure over the roar of laughter inside my skull.
I wasn't laughing when I came out. The old fart keyed my truck!
