Sit down, dudes and gentledudes, because it's fuckin' Story Time™.
So I’m walking home from NCC (my local college where I take classes), and the road I take happens to go right next to Broad River Cemetery. I’ve got an empty shopping bag from bringing snacks to Anime Club (because I’m a weeaboo-ass motherfucker who’s desperately seeking friends), and I see that there’s a lot of trash on the side of the road, like on the grassy area between the street and the graveyard. Being in a cheerful and somewhat goody-two-Docs mood, I decide to pick up the biggest pieces of litter and put them in my empty bag to throw them away at home.
So I’m doing this, right, being a good citizen for all the dearly departed, and this guy. This motherfucker. Rolls up in his fuckin’ soccer-mom-ass-lookin’ silver minivan and. he. fucking. wolf. whistles. at. me.
As I’m cleaning up a fucking graveyard.
Keep in mind that I’m the only one there, I’m the only person he could possibly be addressing.
So of course I holler “HEY” at this skeezy-ass, probably-Trump-voting motherfucker, but he’s already rolling his coward ass away.
But, my dudes, there is karma in this world. Or at least a vengeful deity or whatever. Because there’s a street light about twenty feet away. And it just turned from yellow to red. So Mr Minivan Minidick has to bring his moldy ass to a halt.
I stroll over to him, all casual, and lock eyes with him. I can practically smell this fucko’s fear.
I start out with “What the hell is wrong with you, what rotted crevice in the moldy Swiss cheese that serves as your brain made you think it was ok to wolf whistle at someone who’s picking up trash at a goddamn graveyard, is that how you met your first five exes”, etc. Of course he rolls up his window so he doesn’t have to hear anything from the piece of meat he most likely sees me as.
But.
As it just so happens, the car behind him in line at the red light has its window down. And the woman inside has seen and heard every detail that just transpired between Dickass and I.
So she looks behind her, sees that there aren’t any cars nearby other than Pissbrain’s, and she points at me.
Points at her ears.
And leans her entire weight on her horn.
Swear to god, the fucker in front of her jumped a foot out of his seat.
So he rolls down his window to yell at her, she rolls hers down as well, and stops honking for just as long as it takes for her to shout at the top of her blessed lungs, “FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!” before rolling her window back up and blasting him with more sweet, sweet retribution for the entire, two minute duration of the red light.
As soon as it turns green, his Lego-stomping ass speeds away like a bat out of hell. I thank the saint behind him, she goes “no problem, honey,” and we part ways— her, hopefully on her way to be deified as the Goddess of Cat-Call Vengeance, and I, a woman forever changed.
Whoever she is, and wherever she may be, I wish her well.
