Bumb Fights. Part Une

So we may be the worst bloggers ever. When we have to stop blogging about ourselves then we flat out stop blogging. Well I can tell you it is not out of lack of blog worthy material, with that said I present the beginning of what I'm sure to be a turbulent set of blogs. The Bumb Fights.

I work retail and it's Christmas. The characters are as follows.

Old man- in his, let's say 60's but as gay as the day is bright!

Young man- 'round 25.

Young man's girlfriend- similarly aged.

This is how the scene played out.

Our line for the register was wrapping it's way through the store making it difficult to get to some of the merchandise on some of our shelves.

Young man and Girlfriend are in said line.

Old man is pressing his way though people to locate something on said shelves, in the process bumps into Young Man's Girlfriend. Old Man then comments on Young Man's Girlfriend's virtue or rather (he assumes) her lack of. At this, the Young Man leapt into defense of his true love by commenting on the Old Man's alternative life choices, also I believe there was talk of the Old Man becoming intimate with some one's Mother. The Old Man, still spouting his own myriad of slang filth, pushed his way out of the crowd and began to walk away, suggesting over his shoulder the Young Couple should go and become intimate with themselves.

Now up to this point nothing truly worthy of report happened. It is after all New York and we are counseled to kick Satan where the sun don't shine from our pulpits. So we are used to flowery language.

But something here snapped. Deep inside the Young Man rage grew and flourished, screaming through his sinus and gained momentum as it raced. Sparking and whirling it ricochet through his body and finally combust.
The Old Man with his back turned never saw him coming.
All those in line and at the register and, at this point, in the store were certainly expecting the worst. Which is what they witnessed.
The Young Man, a 25 year old man with a girl friend in line, with an entire store looking on ran with all his might, then stopped, prepped and KICKed the Old Gay Man in the butt. Not a punters kick, mind you, a twelve year old who's pants are too baggy that non-kicking leg also lifts off the ground. In such a position ones balance can only be sustained by clinching the fists and biting the lower lip. Both were completed in this case.

The rest of the story goes as you would expect: The Old Man called for security. Jessica, a 4 foot 8 inch cashier said, "We don't got no security, iz jes us." O.M. demanded we call the police, which we did. Young Man suggests they 'Rumble' out side where he will be waiting to kick the Old Man derriere, which he had done and we all believed would again. While waiting for the Police, Old Man berates all those in his path until Crazy Customer No One Knows pipes out of the line about how when the Police get here he's going to tell them that he deserved what he got (kicked in the Butt) because he was callin' that guys girl names. I suppose because he say that the line was against him and that the Police were actually coming he tossed out some blanket offences that covered us all and he left passing four (yes FOUR) New York City Police Officers. We were quick to point out the man who had called for their aid was now a block up the street but Jonathan was pretty sure he could recognize the back of his head. Which he did and they spent a half hour deliberating the importance of staying at the scene of the crime, even if the crime was your butt was kicked in public.

I don't have a morel. I don't believe in them, but I would like you to take a moment and dig down deep inside yourself and try to find the place where you decide that the absolute only rational rebuttal for any grievance is to rear back and with all the force you have in you to muster, propel your foot into a violent ascension to the ripe bumb of your offender. I hope it takes more then a moment to find. But I take secret pleasure in knowing that it's there.