Actually, make that “f***ing asshole”. One night when Dusty and I were walking along
Eighth Avenue in West Village last week, when we heard the screech of tyres, a
sickening thud and…well, Dusty was ready to speed dial 911 on her (US) mobile,
thinking an ambulance would be required. A Yellow Cab had struck a young woman
at a pedestrian crossing, but her injuries were far from fatal, as the
following verbatim account will demonstrate:
‘You hurt my arm! What the f**k you mean
“you’re sorry?” You hurt my f***ing arm, you asshole! F**k you!”
It seems this near-fatal collision clearly
hadn’t impaired the young woman’s vocal chords, nor did it affect her command
of colourful invective. The Yellow Cab wisely drove off, leaving this woman to
finish crossing the road, and recount the whole episode to the gathering crowd
of bystanders. We considered pointing out that she was, in fact, walking
against the pedestrian signal, but she looked like a really, really angry
version of Fran (The Nanny) Drescher,
so we thought the better of it.
So, that’s it, end of story. What the f**k
are you still looking at anyhow? Show’s over, asshole! What more do you f***ing
want? Go f**k yourself!
Fuc*in' A! It sounds like you're fitting right in over there in Gotham, Dusty. Torn Karpetz (or Muddy, maybe, I can never remember).
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