Plain Tales of Ordinary Madness, Baltimore Edition, No. 104:

So, I went down to the local dive to get a sixpack around closing time. Met up by chance with my friend George, a graduate student in physics, who was doing the same thing.

There was this Hopkid† on the skids hanging around the outside of the bar, trying to bum beers off of anyone who cared. No one did.

So he sees me and Jorge leaving the joint and decides to latch on to us. “C’mon, man, just one for the road.” We both ignore him until we get to the streetlight, at which point George has enough, pulls a beer off his ‘pack, and says, “Here you go. A beer.”

So this little shit decides that’s somehow an insult instead of charity, and yells, “Yeah, thanks, you stingy-ass faggot!”

Me, I’m walking two paces back with Haku, and my blood boils. What the fuck did he want, the whole sixpack? And anyway (NTTAWWT), George is not a faggot, he’s just weird. High-functioning Asperger’s, if you want to know the truth. I’ve written about George here before.

So I get right up in this kid’s face - like two inches - and say “what the fuck did you just say to my friend? tell it to me! right now!”

And without hesitating, this little fuck hauls off with the free beer he’s just been handed and smacks me as hard as he can upside the head with it. Knocks my glasses off. Then kicks Haku - who is trying to bite his nuts off - hard in the gut. Haku yelps - I look down - kid punches me down on the sidewalk and kicks me three times in the ribs.

And runs.

But the joke was on him. He forgot to pick up his beer can weapon before he left.

There were about two dozen witnesses.

Me and Jorge drank the beer and saved the can as evidence.