What is the most shocking thing you’ve heard or seen in public?
Like someone going ballistic in a restaurant? Someone running naked through a concert hall?
Tibs
Hmmmm… back when I worked as a cashier in a little store in downtown San Clemente, I heard a horrible, keening shriek right outside the door, and ran to see what was the matter. An enraged woman ran past a man, viciously hanked off his toupee, and threw it into the bushes. She ran on, hopped into her car, and peeled off. Strange.
I’m sure I could think of other incidents, but this is what came to mind first.
In my misspent youth, I saw too many nekkid people to be shocked much by them;).
While my girlfriend-at-the-time and I were waiting in line at a movie theater (we were going to see Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, which should give you some sense of what year it was), a rather George-Carlin-looking man was “escorted” out of the theater by two security personnel. They were holding his arms behind his back and may have been putting handcuffs on him. The man was visibly struggling, and shouted:
“Assault and batteREE! Assault and batteREE!”
… presumably accusing the two security thugs of physically abusing him by restraining him. The man put a huge accent on the last syllable of “battery”, which was why I spelled it like that just now. He turned to some guy in the crowd and shouted:
“My ticket was valid! I need you to be a witness at my assault and battery trial!”
At the time, all I could think of was this Introduction to Civil Law course at my university which I’d audited briefly. The professor had told us that a battery was the touching of a person of another in a way that caused that person harm without that person’s consent. An assault was an action that a reasonable person would view as a threat of an imminent battery. False improsonment was the confinement or restriction of somebody’s movement against their wishes which caused that person economic or other damage.
I remember thinking, “Don’t go after the security people for assault and battery, go after them for false imprisonment! Duh!”
I didn’t start this one, but I was blamed for it:
When I was sixteen, I had a job at the local K-Mart. It was ahorrid place to work. Employee morale was rock-bottom, and the management were some of the meanest people I have ever had the misfortune to meet.
I was a cashier. I was ringing people up one night, when two people entered my line. I grabbed the first item on the conveyor belt, and scanned it. The woman standing in front of me let out a terrible SCREAM, as if something had struck her, or she was having a heart-attack. I jumped, and gasped, “What’s wrong?”
“You rang him up before me!” She shouted, her face as red as a beet. Her items were clutched in her arms, and the item on the belt had belonged to the man behind her. “You fucking BITCH!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said, and reached out to take her items. She clutched a bag of donuts, swung her arm back like a major leauge pitcher, and hurled them at my head. I ducked, and the bag splattered against the backboard behind my head.
“Oh no, Mommy, not again!” her little boy wailed, and she took off, marching up and down in front of the registers, shrieking wordlessly at the top of her voice, and then began shouting about how she was going to sue me, the store, the managers, the corporation, and the customers who were gaping at her. Shaking, I picked up the shattered bag of donuts, and threw them away, and wiped at my backboard with a plastic bag to remove some of the goo.
“Jesus, lady,” said the man still standing at my counter. “You need to take your medication.”
The managers stood in a little knot, huddled by the customer service counter, whispering and pointing. They made no move toward the woman, who was now beating her fist against the wall. She grabbed a cart at the end of another register that was being filled with bags of another customer’s purchases, and shoved it, hard. It flew across the room, and smashed into the pop machine. “Hey, that’s my stuff!” the owner snapped. She turned to him, and let out a long, furious scream. He cringed back, and dropped his eyes.
The screaming woman then stopped short, as if her battery had run down. She marched back over to me, and demanded that I give her her bag of donuts. "Ma’am, I said softly, “I threw them away. You threw them at me, and smashed them.”
“I DID NOT!” she yelled. “You ate them, didn’t you! You ATE my donuts!”
I didn’t say anything, for once in my life, at loss for words. The manager came over then, and snapped at me, “You! Go back to my office! Take off your badge and vest!”
“Well, I’m fired,” I thought, and started back toward the back of the store. Halfway back, the shock of what I had just seen hit me, and I began weeping. A blurry shape came toward me . . . It was Steve, the security guy. “Come on,” he said gently. “Come back to my office. I got the whole thing on tape, and it wasn’t your fault.” He sat me down in his chair, and brought me a Coke. He went back outside into the hallway, and I could hear him arguing with my manager. “It wasn’t her fault . . . she didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I want her out of here! That customer was engraged!”
“But she didn’t DO anything!”
“I don’t care. We’ve lost a customer! Tell her to clean out her locker.”
“Look, do you even want to see the tape?”
“I don’t need to! I know that we’ve lost a customer for sure, and probably even MORE due to that scene out there that she caused!”
“You can’t fire her. She didn’t do anything wrong, and if you try, I’ll give her the tape, and I don’t think your treatment of her would look good in court, now would it?”
“WHAT?? You can’t do that!”
“Then fire me.”
The argument lasted a few more minutes, and finally my manager decided that she would just write me up for it. She couldn’t be talked out of that.
Needless to say, I did not work long for K-Mart after that.
This wasn’t a “scene” as such, and I wasn’t a participant, but there was such a world of dysfunction in it that I’ve never forgotten it.
The scene: the mall on a Saturday afternoon. A forty-something Dad, his three school-age daughters, and his twenty-something girlfriend, who was overdressed in “girlfriend” date clothes. The dysfunction was in the girlfriend’s possessive death grip on the Dad’s arm, and the “body english” in the way the three little girls danced possessively around him as they strolled down the mall, all four females competing for his attention, and him looking tired and harassed.
Only 10 seconds, while I sat there in the Food Court watching, but it made an indelible impression. I paused for a moment and gave thanks for my totally normal, if sometimes rather strange, relationships.
And what kind of grown woman needs to compete with three little girls?
Another that wasn’t necessarily a “scene”, as I was the only witness - but it left a nasty impression just the same.
A few years ago, I was waitressing in a family-style restaurant. One Mother’s Day, a couple came in with two small girls. The kids were only about 3 and 4 years old, and were quite a handful, but really sweet. They both kept knocking over their water and spilling food, etc. Normal stuff for active kids. Anyhow, the man chose this time and place (Mother’s Day, busy restaurant) to tell the woman that he was sick of the “rotten little cum-stains” wrecking his clothes and that he didn’t want to see her again. The mom started crying, which made the girls cry, and the bastard decided that crying was the final straw, so he got up and left. In HER car. Without paying the bill. The restaurant covered the tab, and I had the pleasure of taking the poor woman into the office so she could call the police to report her car stolen.
This little scene happened when I was a younger fella’ (between 8 and 10.)
We were vacationing in Maine, and went to Freeport to shop.
We first went to the LL Bean factory store, and what we saw remains a topic of discussion to this day.
Seeing as it was a rainy day in August, everyone vacationing in Maine decided to go to Freeport, needless to say parking was hard to come by. Anyway, as we are leaving the store we arrive just in time to see the whole thing.
A man had just pulled out of a spot, and a couple on the other side of the row of cars wantewd the spot, so he let his wife go stand in the spot to save it for him. Well, another couple saw the man pull out too, and also wanted the spot. So they drove over to pull in, managed to get his front end in just as the wife enters the spot.
Of course, the driver immediatly stops. He stares at the lady, expecting her to move. Of course, she doesn’t, and by this time her husband has come around the other side to face the other driver. He got of the car and started to explain to the driver that he had his wife save the spot for him. Well, the other guy didn’t like this. He got out and declared she move, or else he’ll run her over.
“You can’t have her save a spot! I got here first, it’s mine!”
“But I saw it first, so it’s mine!”
This continued for several minutes, to the point where the wife was sitting down in the spot, both men and the second guy’s wife were out of their cars yelling, and quite a crowed had gathered. Of course, they were blocking traffic in that row, and several spots had come and gone. My dad even offered one of the guys his spot, right next to the original one, but they both just yelled at him to mind his own business.
We didn’t stick around to see what happened to them.
Lissa: That was a great story - and all of us who’ve been cashiers and endured that same treatment know that the customer isn’t the villan - it’s the manager (these are always the same types that talk about “teamwork!”)
One of the strangest stunts I ever saw was at a marijuana smoke-in in Madison Wisconsin during the post-Vietnam riot - pre-Pail and Shovel era of the street pary scene. One bon-vivant was casually leaning against the flagstone pillar of a park shelter house, steady and sober - not at all spacey-looking - just taking it all in, but oblivious to the spreading wet stain on the front of his pants. Finally he looked down and saw what he’d done, and without any show of emotion he walked a few yards away until he was waist-deep in Lake Menona (or Mendota? I think it was the one without any Otis Redding in it). Then he strooed back out and resumed his place at the pillar. There was a lesson in there somewhere. Um - the indomitability of the human spirit - especially when baked?
I was working as a vendor in a small grocery store in Ohio. A man came inside & loudly announced that he wanted someone to call the police, as another male was waiting outside to beat his ass. Seems the first man had been dating the wife of the second man. This complaining fellow had his daughter with him, and strode up & down the ailes, verbally abusing anyone in his path, & using quite a bit of profanity. Kept saying, “I didn’t know she was married”, and seemed upset that he himself had been cursed in front of his daughter. Obviously too afraid to go outside & take his medicine, but wasn’t too afraid to accost the shoppers inside. He even kicked the tray of goods that I was standing beside. WTF? What do you have to prove to me, bad-ass? I was only too glad to get out of there that day.
Jesus, Lissa, what an awful thing to happen to you. I’ve worked in shitty customer service jobs before so I know the kind of crap you have to go through, but I’ve never had anything quite that insane happen to me.
Last year I was on the Washington Metrorail, and was treated to a VERY fun scene. I’m minding my own business (LOL … don’t have these stories start out this way?) with headphones on, when all of a sudden the woman behind me says “does somebody need a Kleenex?” Loud enough so I hear it above the music.
Everyone on the train is kind of looking around confused, but eventually shrug it off. Two minutes later, though: “A tissue?? Someone need one??” Ooooookay … what the hell is this all about? FINALLY she says QUITE loudly, “Look, I’m two months pregnant and have morning sickness … would whoever keeps sniffling all the time take my goddamn tissue? I’m about to throw up if I have to keep listening to you!”
The guy across the aisle from here speaks up, admits it was him and says, kind of snidely, “Sorry to inconvenience you!” But he takes a tissue and blows his nose. End of story.
Wrong! At the next stop, another woman who was sitting two seats in FRONT of the sniffling guy stands up, gets all up in the face of the pregnant lady and tells her “I can’t believe you, that was so $@#@# rude! How DARE you be that rude? Learn some manners … I feel sorry for your kid learning them from YOU!” And then she storms to the complete other end of the train to stew.
Pregnant lady then pulls an “oh no she DIDN’T!” and stands up, climbs over the guy sitting on the outside of her, and follows the other lady, standing over her seat screaming at her at the top of her lungs “I’M rude? YOU’RE the rude one! I can’t help it if his %#@#@ sniffling makes me sick, I don’t want to throw up all over the #@%## place” and back and forth for a good five minutes between the two of them.
The rest of the train, of course – morning rush hour, so it’s packed – is just staring and kind of smirking in nervous disbelief at them. Truly an entertaining morning.
This thread is much more depressing than funny, unfortunately.
We were leaving a restaurant and encountered a couple in a fight–I think the guy had just thrown his girlfriend down the stairs to their downtown apartment. We were so stunned, we didn’t know what to do. She refused our help and said everything was fine, but to this day I feel guilty that we didn’t do more.
This wasn’t a HUGE scene, but… As I was waiting to pick up a prescription, a well-dressed woman came in to pick up the refill she’d called in. It wasn’t ready, and the tech had no record of her call. She got VERY snappy and snotty, extremely condescending. He offered to look up her record (she spelled her name out in the most annoyed, put-upon manner) and still couldn’t find her. She ranted about incompetence and how they’d lost her business and what a shoddy operation they were. I thought we’d seen the last of her, but a few minutes later she stomped triumphantly back in to the store, pill bottle in hand. “I’ve got it right here, maybe NOW you can figure it out!” The tech looks at the bottle and very softly and kindly points out to her that it was not filled at this pharmacy. Although HER tantrum had been loud enough for every customer to hear, I think only I heard his gentle correction of her error. He offered to call the other pharmacy and get it transferred, if she’d like. It was all I could do not to go over there and ask her if she’d like her crow salted before she ate it. The staggering thing was, she didn’t apologize to the guy she’d been abusing. She got quieter, but seemed just as mad to find out she was wrong. Sigh. What a bitch.
Finally, one day I got to my car after a work and saw the scene of an accident in the garage. Two teenage girls were cowering, another couple were standing by the second car looking uncomfortable, and another man was screaming at the girls. It looked bad, exactly the kind of thing you’d hurry by if you could, but I thought jeez, this isn’t right. I knew there was a police station in the ground floor of the garage, so I asked if there was anything I could do to assist (thinking I could ask an officer to come up). The guy snarled no. I said that things looked a little heated and maybe someone else could help calm things down. That really set him off. He yelled at me to mind my own damn business, that this was his daughter who took the car without permission, she is supposed to be at school, yadda yadda yadda. Well, that REALLY pissed me off. I just about yelled back. I said, “Look mister, I didn’t know you were her father. I saw two girls being verbally abused and wanted to make sure no one was at risk. I know if my teenage daughter were out, I’d be goddamned grateful that a stranger were willing to stop and make sure everything was okay in a situation like this, even if their initial impression was wrong. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for jumping all over me. ASHAMED!!!” And I stormed over to my car like a maniac. I overreacted big time. He was still an ass, though.
It was mid-afternoon on a Wednesday, I think, and I was riding the bus. At one stop, the door opened and you could hear this woman cursing before she even got on the bus
“Goddamned traffic! Goddamned buses! Goddamned traffic with all the cars!” Over and over again.
Imagine my surprise when the disgruntled owner of this loud mouth climbed slowly aboard and I saw that it was an extremely sweet looking yet very, very old lady. She was cursing up a storm as she shuffled down the aisle, and I could hardly believe it. I don’t think I have ever heard an old lady use such language.
There happened to be a young man sitting with one of his legs stretched out. Although there was more than enough room for this lady to get past, she suddenly laid into him.
“Put your goddamned feet in you goddamned jerkoff! You damned jerkoff! If you want to sit like that, do it at your own house, you damned jerkoff! You’re a damned jerkoff, sitting like that, goddamn you!”
The man basically ignored her, and looked like he was trying not to laugh, until she said, “You jerkoff, you must be Puerto Rican, you damn jerkoff. Goddamn Puerto Rican jerkoff!”
Eventually the guy replied, “You better keep quiet grandma, or somebody’s gonna drag you off this bus.” I don’t think she heard him, as she kept mumbling as she sat down. Somehow seeing this old lady launch into a profane, racist rant against a total stranger really freaked me out.
Okay, here’s one:
I went to the Walgreens near my house (in Chicago) one day, I believe to get some Smint. As I’m picking up the Smint, I start hearing some commotion from the front of the store. As this is Chicago, I’m not entirely surprised (I’ve gotten somewhat used to dealing with a lot more oddness since moving here). Anyway, the commotion gets somewhat louder, and then I see him…a large, buck-nikked man running through the store. This was the summer of '99, which was quite hot here, and I heard the man yell “I’m sorry, I don’t have a gun, I’m just very, very hot.” I could almost understand. I mean, Walgreens had some damned good AC going that day. And it wasn’t hard to tell he didn’t have a gun. I mean, there was no place to put it…no place I’d like to think about, anyway.
So he’s running all around, and eventually ends up on top of the little cashier counter at the exit, holding onto a sign hanging from the ceiling, and yelling, “I AM a lawyer, do not call the police, I am not armed, I am a lawyer…” I’m thinking, “Well which law allows you to do this?” He then started shouting, “I WANT a lawyer” which made a lot more sense. He also said his family was very hot too.
Obviously someone called the police anyway, even after his pleas, because they start showing up. Everyone was up front, just staring amazedly. We could almost see his pupils alternating in dilation. The cops had blocked the doors, so we couldn’t go anywhere. One woman was covering her two kids’ eyes and saying, “Oh my Gawwwwd.” I just found that hysterical. So anyway, the cops continue to pile in, one after another, until there were around twenty of them, and I’m not exaggerating. So they finally manage to wrestle this guy down, this one, unarmed, naked man and take him out. I lost sight of them after that.
The interesting part, after all that, is that I realized I must have become very, very jaded (I’m sure it has everything to do with video games and Hollywood…stupid entertaining violence), because I just left, went to Burger King, went home, and didn’t even remember to tell my roommates about it for a couple of hours. It was as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. God bless Chicago.
This also gives you an answer to that age-old riddle: How many Chicago cops does it take to arrest a naked man?
Okay, that was my first post. You guys finally dragged it out of me. Oh, and Lissa? Holy Shit. I think I would’ve had to smack your manager.
When I was working as a bouncer, I came to the front of the club I was at to find a girl weeping near the entrance sitting on a curb and some drunk guy verbally abusing her. I asked the person in line what was up and the guy said the drunk ass had slapped her. I was about to go over when this little old Asian man slowed from his nightly walk that I had seen him doing past the club. He bent over and offered the woman his hand, and the guy, who was leaning against a wall screaming curses at her, went batshit. He started yelling “DON’T YOU TOUCH THAT C–T!” and charged at the man.
Now this Asian does not even turn to face him, but executes one of the most beautiful reverse spin kicks I ever saw and connected perfectly with the drunk ass’s face. One shot and he was out cold. Everyone responded with a huge round of applause and the old man simply helped her up, gave her his card, bowed to her and walked off like he never even stopped. Funny thing was the girl then rooted in the cold cocked guys pockets, got his keys and took off, leaving him lying in the street. And he stayed there for a while.
And they say chivalry is dead
My brother and I were in a movie theater watching “Very Bad Things” (aka very bad movie). Anyway, we were sitting in the top left section all the way to the back. Now the seats in this theater were the ones that recline/rock ever so slightly. There were 3 mid-20’s guys sitting in the seats directly in front of us and there were 3 teenage guys sitting in the seats directly in front of them. The fella in the middle seat directly in front of us was wearing a neck brace(this is important later). Apparently about halfway through the movie the middle seat-sitting teenager decides to rock his seat back and forth very quickly causing the back of the seat to hit the guy with a neck brace’s knees. Needless to say neck brace guy didn’t like this one bit and pointed it out to his buddy on the left. Buddy on the left then tells the middle seat-sitting teen to knock it off and slaps him upside the back of his head. This set it off, middle seat teenager jumps up, turns around thinking it was the neck brace guy and punches him square right in the neck!
Now at this point, the movie becomes secondary and I figure a nice brawl is going to ensue right here and I got ringside seats. Well it didn’t. Everyone, including the punching teen was shocked, he freaked out and started screaming, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t know he was disabled! It was dark and I didn’t see the neck brace!” Well of course, neck brace guys friends didn’t believe this and laid into him with expletives and other profane comments, but no fists(smart too, beating up a minor is not the brightest idea). By that time an usher finally made his way up there and escorted all of them out of the theater, amid some jeers and applause by some of the theater occupants. The movie certainly wasn’t worth the $7 but the scene sure was.
Years ago I was on a happy family vacation with my family. I was about 11 or 12 and my brother was 13. We were enjoying the sites in some Yukon town and were walking along a raised boardwalk which was bordered by a parking area. It was about a few metres down to the road so you could see the tops of the cars parked there, on the other side of the parked cars was a busy road. It was a nice sunny afternoon and there were a lot of people and families wandering around. (Sorry just setting up the scene). Away as we were walking along my family glanced down and could see through the sun roof of a car below where a woman was giving head to the driver while we reclined in the driver’s seat. My father laughed and my mother dragged us away. My brother and I were in hysterics. Ahhh family memories. What I don’t understand is what those people thought they were doing - freaks.
This scene was more surreal than shocking – it’s the setting that makes it …
Two years ago I was backpacking through Europe, and it was my last night in Paris. Before I left I’d asked my father about good sights to see in Paris, and he’d recommended Montmartre, especially the church (Sacre-Coeur, which sits atop the hill overlooking the city). I hadn’t seen it yet, but my friends (who were dating each other) wanted to spend some time together along the river, so I was on my own. Our hotel was right near the bottom of the hill, so I walked out and followed the signs up the stairways to the top.
There were a lot of people up there enjoying the view from the steps of the church. I was near the bottom of the steps, looking out over the city, when all of a sudden I heard a commotion above and behind me. A fight had broken out between two men, and in an instant each side’s friends had restrained the struggling pair. However, one of them had kicked over an unopened bottle of beer. The bottle’s top had opened slightly, and there was now a beer-rocket shooting across the steps – it skidded and jumped about 12 steps down before stopping.
My view of the whole thing – two groups of people surrounding the struggling fighters, the beer bottle bouncing down the steps, and the church in the background made a scene that would fit into a movie. A weird movie, maybe. When my friends later asked me how the view up there was, I could only tell them they really missed out on it.
I used to work in a all convience store when I was still in colledge… …lot of wierd stuff happened, but one thing stands out.
It was on a fairly busy friday night, several customers getting gas etc. When this small pickup comes flying through the parking lot, and around behind the building, folloed closely by a mustang. We on the corner of two busy streets and this wasn’t all that unusual, but then I started hearing crashing sounds over and over comeing from behind the store. Customers started leaveing, and one customer ran in and gave me a piece of paper with liscence plate numbers on it, then ran out the door and left. I picked up the phone and called the cops, and while on the phone with them this guy runs in with blood pouring down his face(the drive of the truck). I can hear a girl screaming outside, and the guys say “you gotta help me man, thier beating up my girlfriend”. So I tell the cops I gotta go and to send an ambulance, grab my 6 d cell mag lite, and run out the door. The guys start climbing back in the mustang, its front end all smashed from being rammed by the truck, and haul down the street. The guys bother shows and is having a fit about what just happend, and I see a cop car at the intersection, so I flag her down with the flash light. she pulls in and asks what is going on, and before I can say a word they guys brother starts scream at the cop, pound on the hood of her car, and telling her shes a stupid bitch and that they are getting away. So as shes putting him down on the hood of the car she calls for backup on her radio. I look over, the and truck is pulling out of the parking lot with the guy and his girlfriend in it. at this point(the brother wasn’t fighting or anything), I walk back inside and turn on both coffee makers and watch as the parking lot fills up with fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars.(we still ran out of coffee pretty quick).
No victom, no suspects. A lot of irritated city employees.
I witnessed an amazing amount of deranged behavior during my decade in France. Here are some highlights; you all can decide the winner:
1989, Paris: I am walking up Rue Saint Denis back to my hotel, when suddenly a huge black man walking ahead of me in the same direction suddenly turns, shouts something I don’t understand, then whacks me savagely over the head with a half-filled 2 liter bottle of Pepsi. At least a dozen people are nearby, but no does anything except gather around to watch the show. As I stand there, dazed, he continues screaming, and it gradually dawns on me that he is accusing me of trying to sneak up and rob him. In my broken French, I try to say that I’m an American and I don’t need to rob anyone (ridiculous, I know, but I was in a complete state of shock). This just enrages him further, and he begins to repeatedly screech “Fuck America! Fuck America!” while menacing me with his bottle of soda. Finally, he strides off, and is still shouting “Fuck America” when he disappears around the next corner.
1990, Paris, Christmas Day: A drunk woman, coatless, stands in the rain along the road in front of Gare du Nord, half-empty bottle of wine in hand, cursing and literally spitting at every car that passes.
1992, Paris, riding the #20 bus towards Jardin Luxembourg: a woman in a Mini approaches the bus head-on on the narrow street. There is no room to pass because of cars parked on both sides. She comes to a halt, and, instead of reversing to let the bus through, she smirks through the windscreen, takes her hands off the wheel and crosses her arms. Even though she need only back up a couple of car lengths, and there is no traffic behind her, she obviously expects the 20-ton bus, with about ten cars trailing, to back up half a block and let her through. After nearly five minutes of this Mexican standoff, and with a cop approaching on foot, she finally relents.
1996, Paris, Rue Chateau-Landon: Two cars traveling the same direction screech to a stop adjacent to the Metro entrance. Both (male) drivers jump out and start yelling at each other over someone’s failure to yield at the previous stoplight. To emphasize his point, Driver 1 shatters his opponents’ right headlight with a well-aimed kick. D2 immediately retaliates by punching out D1’s left tail light. This is the cue for both drivers, with fists and feet, to begin systematically bashing in the panels of each other’s car. After a few moments, and having done probably $2000 USD in damage to their vehicles, they jump into their respective wrecks and roar off.
1998, on the Autoroute somewhere past Chartres: I’m driving my girlfriend and her sister on a weekend trip to the Dordogne. We pass a small wood that opens out into farmland. Just then I look to the right and see a man standing just outside the wire fence along the right-of-way, in full view of southbound traffic. His trousers are down around his ankles and, with a grin as huge as his erection, he is masturbating furiously. His Renault is parked on a nearby dirt road, positioned for a quick exit.
And there’s more where these came from…