Next | Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

She drops the purse and falls onto the cold icy pavement outside. I hop out after her, running on a shocked and confused auto-pilot by now.

“You fucking little cunt!” I exclaim.

“Thief! Thief!” the drunk girl is now screaming, as she stumbles around inside.

I pick up the purse and lord over the now terrified teenage pilferer. I hold my fists up threateningly at her. I am about to curse her out, and tell her what a low life she is when I inexplicably look up.

Standing not more than a few feet away from me, is a very enraged looking bus driver. He has watched his bus be destroyed by thugs and hoodlums. He has watched people riot and puke on his one responsibility tonight. And now every low life criminal is making a clean getaway moments before the cops arrive.

He tosses his cell phone haphazardly into the snow.

He has the crazy eye.

I look down at the purse I am holding, at the injured girl at me feet, and slowly clue in to the repeated calls of “thief” from inside the bus.

Eyes locked on me, glaring at me with hideous intent, he reaches behind his back and produces an ominous steel rod. With the flick of his wrist a baton emerges as 21 inches of black, cold, steel.

“Whoa wait a minute!” I exclaim. But it’s too late for that.

“You son of a bitch,” he mumbles viciously under his breath.

“Wait!” I yell.

“Drop that purse you scumbag!” he shouts as he rushes towards me.

I drop the purse and he kicks it over to the teenage girl. As I dash away from him he continues to draw nearer to me. I am frantically calling for him to wait, telling him that she’s the thief, not me. The teenage girl is already running off with the purse though, with the rest of his rowdy passengers.

“You fucker!” he yells.

He lunges at me, and swings the stick. I instinctively duck and the rod slams into the side of the bus. I jump back and as my eyes fix back on my attacker, I am briefly drawn to the clear dent in the side of the bus.

“Holy shit!”

The bus is metal, my skull is not. I hate to think what that thing is going to do to my head.

He’s growling and drooling almost, like a rabid, blue-balled dog that hasn’t seen action in weeks.

I turn to run but he body checks me and I fall back over a pile of snow. I scramble back to my feet and desperately try to come up with a plan.

He swings again.

With cat-like reflexes I dodge his attack, doing an amazingly heroic somersault roll. Only, this isn’t a comic book, and I’m not really a hero in any real sense of the word. I dodge his attack, and I do it with a roll, but I bruise myself in the process. My knee slams into the pavement too hard and I knock my head. I try to regain my footing quickly, almost as shocked as the bus driver that I evaded him with such a move.

His look of surprise quickly fades however, and he continues his attack.

My head is pounding and my heart is racing. Down the street, I see flashing police lights. I realize that of all the people tonight, it looks like I am the one who is going to get arrested. Somehow, something inside tells me: “I told you so.”

This is what I get for not minding my own business. This is what I get for not just letting well enough alone. This is what I get for trying to help someone, for trying to stop a crime.

My pocket vibrates with more texts from my drunken friends—no doubt telling me about their penises, my penis, or about what a woman I am. But now is not the time for such messages.

The lights are drawing nearer, and so is the bus driver. My eyes are fixed on the metallic weapon he’s brandishing as he draws nearer with each angry step.

I realize that I am fucked.

This always happens.

I always get screwed.

I can never catch a break, never get lucky, never win… never… except tonight.

Suddenly, the bus driver screams out in anguish and drops his baton. He clenches his face and howls terribly.

I’ve never heard such a magnificent sound in all my life.

Katie quickly grabs my hand and pulls me down an alley as police cars begin to pull up on the street. The bus driver has fallen to the ground and is whimpering and holding his face. As we make our getaway, Katie tosses away the pepper spray that she used to save me.

Next | Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

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