Exhibit A
[Woman @ Work has buttonholed me in regards to "Sheila"]
W@W:
Did you know that Sheila doesn’t like you?
Me:
[possibly sarcastic]
OH MY GOD!
W@W:[smiling in that way that gossipy-shits like to smile]
You don’t care?
Me:
[staring at her through my eyebrows]
W@W:
Really?
Me:God for-fucking-bid Sheila doesn’t like me.
W@W:
Well, she did...up until you did that "C-word" routine.
Me:
[thoughtfully]
That was pretty great.
[pause; remembering the good times]
Pretty super great.
W@W:She doesn’t like that word.
Me:
Which is, of course, why I did it.
[with a sparkle in my eye]
Were they not legitimate questions?
W@W:
[smiling]
She is a "cunt-try" girl.
Me:
How else would I have found that out?
[reliving the magic]
What about when I interrupted her, only to tell her to "cunt-tinue"?
W@W:
She was complaining to anyone who would listen about your use of language in the office.
Me:[smiling]
Wow.
[pause]
What a cunt.
Exhibit B
[pacing & smoking on a residential side-street, Mr. Neighbourhood Watch comes out of his yard to chat]
Mr. Neighbourhood Watch:
What are you doing?
Me:
[looking at my cigarette]
Smoking.
[pause; friendly]
What’re YOU doing?
Mr. Neighbourhood Watch:
I live here.
Me:Awesome.
Mr. Nieghbourhood Watch:So, again, what are you doing?
Me:
[wallowing in the glow of his agitation]
You mean, what am I doing on this public road that you don’t own, smoking my cigarette on this road that isn’t your house or your property, where I can stand if I so desire because it’s a public road that you don’t own because it’s a public road that isn’t your house?
Mr. Nieghbourhood Watch:[pause]
Yeah.
Me:[stifling laughter]
Good question.
Mr. Neighbourhood Watch:
There’s been a rash of burglaries around here, lately.
Me:Oh, yeah?
[look at his house]
Have you been burgled?
Mr. Neighbourhood Watch:[eyes narrow]
No...
Me:[nodding head]
Lucky you.
[nodding, smiling; looooooong pause]
You live right there?
[He just stares at me, leaving my question rudely unanswered and watching me finish my smoke]
Me:
Well, it’s been a pleasure.
Mr. Neighbourhood Watch:[no response, save for the veins in his neck bulging with rage]
Me:[as I’m getting into my car, I point at his house]
Right there?
[He looks at his house; by the time he looks back I’m down the road – I’m still waiting to see if there'll be a composite-sketch of myself on the news under the headline, "East-Hammertown Bandit"]
Exhibit C
[Random conversation about bowling, of all things, with a Teenaged Girl in the elevator]
Teenaged Girl:
I hate powling.
Me:[wondering if I heard her correctly]
Um...
Teenaged Girl:
And I really hate mini-butt.
Me:
[with strong pronunciation]
Mini-butt?
Teenaged Girl:PUTT.
[embarrassed]
I have trouble with p’s and b’s.
Me:Ah.
Teenaged Girl:Not just saying them, but writing them, too.
Me:You must really hate "peanut-butter".
Teenaged Girl:
No.
[confused]
I like beanut-putter.
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