Spit

March 8, 2007

Sometimes, strange things happen and you’re not quite sure how to deal with them. Take today, for example. I was walking along, minding my own business, when someone spat their food all down my leather jacket. It looked like chewed up bread. Nice.

If operating entirely as a creature of instinct, you generally know how to handle acts of aggression. Someone hits you, you smack them in the mouth; someone pours their drink over you, you smack them in the mouth; someone double-crosses you in a deal or invades your protection racket, you smack them in the mouth then throw them off the nearest motorway bridge. It’s all very simple.

But there are problems with this: I am not entirely a creature of instinct, I’m also pretty passive and instincts don’t do you much good in this situation. Babies sometimes spit their food over you, you wipe it off. When given medicine, cats will return the favour by depositing it back into your eyeball, so you get it surgically removed. And logic doesn’t help either, because said jacket is wipe-clean, the guy didn’t say anything and was walking away.

In my case, the Instinct Advisory Board had to call an emergency meeting, recommending that I immediately call him a “fucking cunt” to buy some time so the issue could be debated, votes weighed up, minutes written, etc.

He stopped, turned around. He was only about 14, clearly missing a few important pieces of brain and had a sensible-looking girl in tow. She was older, seemed to be about 16 or 17. She begged me to leave it. He unzipped his chavvy sports top to reveal scrawny teenage chest, shouting “come on then!”, while staying at a safe distance.

The board advised that it was all starting to look very pathetic. I felt not in the least threatened or angry. It was just too WTF. So, I gave him the death stare, gave her the “keep your psycho on a lead” look, turned around and walked away.

That was nothing compared to the devastation caused when the Any Excuse For Retail Therapy Committee got wind of this incident. Its recommendation was for a visit to Starbucks for a latte and Choc Crunch Cookie, to be followed by a visit to River Island for a new pair of jeans and cool belt. And I’m telling you, gentle reader, it was only when I was informed at Tesco’s cash machine that there were insufficient funds in my account that I didn’t cause much more damage.

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10 Responses to “Spit”

  1. purrplechick Says:

    How nice!

    I could get into a long rant about ‘kids of today’ lacking respect, and what is the world coming to etc etc but I won’t.

    I’m so glad you were wearing your wipe clean jacket. And well done on a) not letting the little shit get away completely scot free; 2) not losing your rag and Going Nuclear and c) the retail experience! 🙂

  2. Steve Says:

    Thanks.

    Yes, normally the nuclear option would have come into play (considering it was *that* jacket!) but it just too ridiculous.

    If he’d so much as marked my cool shoes he would have been fed, limb by limb, into the nearest wood chipper.

    The jeans are nice. Too bad I’m feeling fat right now. That cookie was the size of Bulgaria.

  3. Andy Melton Says:

    OMG! What a fucking little jerk. We’ll just have to get you a gun. Kids today need to be taught a lesson “Don’t fuck with your elders!” OK! Not really, but really.

    Insufficient fundage is really scary to hear. It makes your heart feel like it fell out your ass. It’s even more embarrassing when you’re in the line at the store.

    NOTE: My comment didn’t help one bit. But whatever.

    *hugs*

  4. swingnut Says:

    I must commend you on your self control. If I were in your situation then I cannot guarantee that I would have been able to control my inner rage. I probably would have turned green, ripped my trouser legs off, puffed up my chest and squished his scrawny head with the sheer power of my mighty fist. GRRRR!

    So, yeah, well done. 😉

  5. purrplechick Says:

    Where did this occur, BTW (Bacon Tomato Wombat)?

  6. purrplechick Says:

    BTW (again) I keep adding a word to the end of this title…. 😐

  7. Steve Says:

    Miss Meltdown – Thanks, honaye. The insufficient funds was only because it seemed to take an extra day for the money to get from one bank account to another, while it was held in some mysterious other dimension where only the bank has your money. It’s strange. The money was there today.

    Mr Nut – indeed, you do turn a funny colour when you’re angry. I suppose the most accurate explanation I can give is this: when sizing up the young chav in question, I realised where there was no sense, there would be no feeling.

    Miss Chick – Llanelli, near Asda. And what word? You tease us with your vast vocabulary! [giggles]


  8. I wouldn’t mind seeing Mr. Nut rip off his trousers! MMM!!! Lovely image in my mind! 😀

  9. purrplechick Says:

    Ah! We guessed it would be Llanelli. Scumsville.

    And the word that I add (in my head) is roast [snigger!]

  10. Tim Says:

    I understand that in some social circles, it’s considered very proper to greet a stranger in such a way. A mouthful of vomit, possibly a friendly squirt of piss — sounds to me like the boy was just being overly friendly.

    Thank gawd you “cool shoes” were spared any of his liquid greetings though.


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