WTF? I thought. Then I said, as I have a VERY bad habit of doing, "What the fuck'd you call me?" I normally say it faintly enough that nobody can make out what I'm saying, but this time I slipped and used a normal speaking voice. She acted like she didn't hear, but after a few seconds she came BACK to the aisle, walked past, and mumbled, "I cannot BELIEVE the stupid motherfuckers in here . . . fucking cocksucker motherfuckers . . ."
I was flabbergasted. I stood there with my mouth open for a good thirty seconds. Maybe she's got Tourette's Syndrome, I thought. So of course I pulled out my phone and went off in search of her in hopes that I could get some righteous video of the afflicted woman flipping out. I found her at the magazine rack. But she wasn't saying SHIT, just standing there leafing through a Harper's Bazaar. So I ended up just snapping this photo:
Then I figured I'd better get a better picture, as the first one was shot kinda from the back and wouldn't be of much use for identification purposes if the shit went down and the police had to get involved. So I went around to the other end of her aisle, and she looked over at me and started in again: "These motherfucking trashy motherfuckers, I swear to fucking Christ . . ."
Like, again, what in the dogfuck? I was completely freaked out. Then I got really pissed off, and I started walking over to her to ask her if she had beef with me. But something told me I probably shouldn't, as there wasn't much good that could've come out of that situation. That, and I was kind of afraid of her. :\
Who has stuff like this happen to them? Who gets in mumble-curse matches with ugly women in the goddamn bookstore?!? I have a vague notion that the woman took offense to my Yellow Rat Bastard shirt--but could that really be it? Would somebody actually call somebody a filthy trash motherfucker because of such a T-shirt?