queer and loathing

I almost maced some bum last night

Last night I was walking to the Pub after work to get a drink and I saw a bicycle laying on it’s side next to the bar. Now, being the bike nerd that I am I felt bad for the bike and walked over to stand it up. (I feel the need to do this… I know….) any way, once I got close I realise it hadn’t fallen and was just set on it’s side. The dirty looks given to me by the bum talking to the gutter punks 3 feet to my right were my tip-off. I look his way and give him the hands up “never mind” motion and walk in the bar. After I went in, I decided I wanted to go home instead so I walked out and stood next to my bike, preparing my pant leg for the ride home.

As I stand there, the bum owner of the bicycle on the ground walks over and picks his bike up and in a loud voice proclaims “I better pick up my bike before it’s stolen by some DIRTY FUCKING FAGGOT!”

I look at him and say “Excuse me?” and he answers “You heard me, faggot.” By this time I had mounted my bike and started to ride away, saying, equally as loud, “I was just gonna pick your bike up for you, you fucking prick.” and ride away….

Suddenly I could hear him get on his bike and start to follow me, (Oh shit, I know) so I stop and turn and look at him. (Remember dear reader, the last time I rushed on my bike I wound up in the emergency tent at the convention center.)

He says “come here asshole.”

I reach in my pocket, knowing I’ve been wanting to spray my mace in someone’s face since I got it the first weekend I moved back… but it wasn’t there.

Damnit. I forgot it at home.

So I got back on my bike and rode as fast as I could, hoping I wouldn’t run into a cab.. or the pavement… again.

I’m such a wuss.