The saga continues:
Snarling retort to my statement:
”Oh, good – you can be my bitch,”
the increasingly angry cretin belted.
My reply to this befuddling utterance is unclear due to the ensuing adrenaline rush prompted by the rapid deterioration of this unprompted consultation, but possibly I offered, with a return sneer, to “go ahead, take it.”
At this point, she began snatching the wood out of the trunk, as I pulled down the hatch, mistakenly clocking her on the head – an occurrence which was not taken lightly.
”You just hit me on my head!”
Then she came at me, swingin’