04-16-2012, 05:23 AM
Yesterday, while walking through the parking lot of Walmart, I passed by a couple, arguing. Well, it was mostly the guy, calling his girlfriend a "fuckin' moron," and throwing an empty water bottle at her head. I've learned my lesson intervening in these kind of things, and since he wasn't actually beating on her, I ignored them and kept walking. The guy, a white or hispanic guy, wearing Phillies gear from head to toe, and covered in bad tattoos, saw me walking in their direction. I was carrying my gun crossdraw, so it's quick to spot. He stood by his car, forgetting about belittling his grilfriend for the moment. He stared at me, angrily, as I walked. As I passed him, I heard him hiss, "Oh, a fuckin' tough guy, huh?" I ignored him, and kept walking. He then said, "Yo! You! With the gun!" I turned and faced him, from about 40' away.
"What do you want?" I said.
"Think you're a tough guy with that fuckin' gun?"
I considered him for a moment, then laughed, and turned around, and continued on my way. I heard him yell out, "Yeah, keep walkin', bitch. You know you don't want none of this!" I turned my head to look at him as I walked away, and he had his arms raised, in a challenging posture. I then laughed again, and kept walking. "Yo, what the fuck are you laughin' at, bitch?" He started to walk after me. "I'm talkin' at you, muthafucka! Who you laughin' at?"
I stopped and turned around, putting my left hand on the butt of my gun (it was set up for right handed crossdraw). "You take one more step towards me, and I'm gonna fuck your whole day up, you understand?" He stopped suddenly, and glared at me.
"You ain't gonna do shit," he said, sounding unsure.
"Come closer and find out." He stood where he was, and wiped his palms on his thighs. "Keep your hands the fuck away from your pockets," I said.
"Alright." He put his hands at his sides.
"Man, what the fuck is your problem?"
"I ain't gotta problem," he muttered dejectedly, staring at his shoes.
I paused, then said, "I don't what the fuck is wrong with you, and I don't care. I ain't your girl, and I ain't one of your homies you can talk shit to, because you act like some kind of fucking tough guy with them. I don't know you from shit. You from around here?"
"Nah."
"Well, let me give you some advice. The next time you try this shit with someone, you better think about it, because the next dude might just shoot your stupid ass for actin' a fool. Now get the fuck out of here...idiot."
"Alright." He shuffled back towards his car, and his girlfriend was smirking at him. "The fuck you smilin' at, bitch? Get in the fuckin' car, already!" They both vanished into their red Honda Accord, and I called the police anyway, giving them a full description of both of them, and their car and license plate number. Then I went about shopping.
People are shit. Please, Baby Jesus, let the Zombie Apocalypse start already.
"What do you want?" I said.
"Think you're a tough guy with that fuckin' gun?"
I considered him for a moment, then laughed, and turned around, and continued on my way. I heard him yell out, "Yeah, keep walkin', bitch. You know you don't want none of this!" I turned my head to look at him as I walked away, and he had his arms raised, in a challenging posture. I then laughed again, and kept walking. "Yo, what the fuck are you laughin' at, bitch?" He started to walk after me. "I'm talkin' at you, muthafucka! Who you laughin' at?"
I stopped and turned around, putting my left hand on the butt of my gun (it was set up for right handed crossdraw). "You take one more step towards me, and I'm gonna fuck your whole day up, you understand?" He stopped suddenly, and glared at me.
"You ain't gonna do shit," he said, sounding unsure.
"Come closer and find out." He stood where he was, and wiped his palms on his thighs. "Keep your hands the fuck away from your pockets," I said.
"Alright." He put his hands at his sides.
"Man, what the fuck is your problem?"
"I ain't gotta problem," he muttered dejectedly, staring at his shoes.
I paused, then said, "I don't what the fuck is wrong with you, and I don't care. I ain't your girl, and I ain't one of your homies you can talk shit to, because you act like some kind of fucking tough guy with them. I don't know you from shit. You from around here?"
"Nah."
"Well, let me give you some advice. The next time you try this shit with someone, you better think about it, because the next dude might just shoot your stupid ass for actin' a fool. Now get the fuck out of here...idiot."
"Alright." He shuffled back towards his car, and his girlfriend was smirking at him. "The fuck you smilin' at, bitch? Get in the fuckin' car, already!" They both vanished into their red Honda Accord, and I called the police anyway, giving them a full description of both of them, and their car and license plate number. Then I went about shopping.
People are shit. Please, Baby Jesus, let the Zombie Apocalypse start already.
"Boy, the next word that comes out of your mouth better be some brilliant fucking Mark Twain shit, 'cause it's definitely getting chiselled on your tombstone."
![[Image: pazrtsig-1.jpg]](http://i160.photobucket.com/albums/t171/Biohazed666/pazrtsig-1.jpg)
