Hell hath no fury …

No matter how trite — be it the song or the saying — breaking up is hard to do.

Some breakups are harder than others. I feel fortunate in that the endings of most of my relationships weren’t too awful. Methinks Lady Luck, who has been AWOL from my neighborhood lately, has blessed me in that I never had an ex-girlfriend such as the ex-girlfriend I encountered on Saturday night.

She wasn’t MY ex-girlfriend, thank heavens. Because had she have been, she might have actually killed me instead of merely assaulting me with her car.

The sound of a drunk chick’s horn disturbed my otherwise leisurely Saturday evening as I was grilling some chicken outside and staying cool under Mr. AC inside. I guess you could say I was grilling and chilling. I don’t know. This woman then beat on my neighbor’s door and after the neighbor and his present girlfriend told drunk chick — who turned out to be the neighbor’s ex — to take a hike, ol’ drunken chick ex-girlfriend got into her car and began blowing her horn once again.

Now people blowing their horns outside of an apartment or motel are among the people whom I most feel should be put on some island far, far away. I didn’t have use of my cell phone this weekend but I, nonetheless, went outside and pretended to dial my phone as if I was calling the police. Too bad my phone was out of service.

All of a sudden, drunk chick swings her car toward me in the parking lot and accelerates towards Mr. EFD like a bat out of Scratchville before braking, backing up and tearing out of the area. I called the police and an officer showed up, followed by a nice-looking blonde as his backup. I explained the event and the cop indicated he knew the drunk chick. I figured he would try to locate her and perhaps let her spend a night playing Paris Hilton.

Later that evening, as the adrenalin had worn off, I realized I must have twisted my back jumping back to avoid getting hit and thus, I spent the rest of the night in a bit of agony.

This morning I decided to follow up with the police. I found out the cop did nothing but leave after he heard my tale o’ woe. He didn’t even file a report. I wanted to file assault charges against drunk chick and still plan to, but now, I will have to do the investigating and spoon-feed it to the cops. It’s like another old saying: “If you want something done right …

I want to bring drunk chick to justice. If not, I might sue her drunken ass. I could have been hurt worse if she had forgotten where the brake was located. It was not a cool thing and it would have been less cool if she had killed or paralyzed me. So, hopefully karma will slap that bitch silly.

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