Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Part III:The Eye Of The Tiger

This is the third and final installment of the Daily Dandy trilogy entitled "Why I will never discuss politics in mixed company." As has been previously stated, all of the events described in Part I HERE, Part II HERE, and Part III today, are factual events, and I have the police reports to prove it. If you missed any of the trilogy, scroll down to the beginning and get caught up, or click on the links above. You'll need the background for what lies ahead.

"Oh no she didn't," was my first thought. "Ok, maybe I just hallucinated," was my second. Did she really just? Truth is, she did, and the instant my brain recognized her words, my foot spiked the perfect pivot and spun me around to her direction in a flash. Why is it that when evil strikes, its always preceded by a smile? Because when I walked over to Little Miss Jean Jacket, the exorcist I had hours earlier expunged, was now present and flashing a big, wide-ass toothy grin.

"Oh, you said that cuz you think we're old," I quipped sarcastically . "You're hilarious," my blood now coming to a steady, rapid boil. I then got myself good and close to her and I went there. Yup, I went where no man should ever go, and I'm not proud of it. But the Italian/Irish Catholic girl, born and raised in Beantown, not very different from the ones I've shown you in those "Boston girl" videos, reared her racist head and she spoke these fatal words:

"Listen doll, why don't you go back to Thailand or wherever it is you belong and back under the rock from where you came."

She jumped down from the stone wall and stood in front of me and said, "Really?"
My face now so close to hers, I could smell the brand of vodka she had been drinking. (Stoli) Stone faced and calm I replied, "Really..."
For the record, I think what I said was more to sting her quickly, and I admit, it was below the belt, but I don't want/like to think of myself as a racist. Anyway you look at it, what I said was wrong and it set into motion the next set of crazy events.

Little Miss Jean Jacket, clearly insulted, stepped back and sent her tightly clenched fist flying right at my vulnerable left cheek, fast. I got lucky and managed to pull back just far enough to dodge her punch, but as I was pulling back, my left hand grabbed a firm hold on the t-shirt she was wearing under the jean jacket. All is fair in love and war, because as I was dodging her punch, I pulled back further and further, taking her t-shirt with me; ripping it right off her body. I don't remember much else, because at that moment I sort of felt like I held the coveted brass ring in my hand.

I think my Ex-Ass grabbed me and pulled me away and I then saw the guys getting into the melee; both hers and ours. I saw A take a swing at what he thought was Little Miss Jean Jacket's guy, but he ended up hitting Little Miss square in the face, and A is a 6'3, big Russian dude. At this point, the rest of the group had broken the whole thing up and we each went in our separate directions. The six of us quickly continued down Boylston Street, even more incredulous than before at what had just taken place. We could not believe our luck because all night it was consistently bad. Was there a full moon tonite, we wondered? I now couldn't wait for the evening to end and to get the hell out of there and go home. No one was laughing any longer, in fact, I believe we all were in different degrees of shock.

We turned the corner onto Dalton Street and got about half way down, just in front of the multi level parking garage where our cars were parked. All of a sudden from out of nowhere, about 6 screaming Asian youths came running and screaming around the corner. It was like a bad production of West Side Story, and the Jets were clearly gunning straight for us. One of the guys yelled, "Get inside, NOW!!" which was meant for us girls because we were standing just in front of the glass doors to the entrance of the parking garage. J, L and I ran inside the glass doors and watched helplessly as the guys literally fought off the youths in the street. Needless to say there was a hell of a lot of screaming going on.

Now we were in the middle of a raucous street brawl! It turned out, that there were about 5 of them, but those three "f*cking forty year olds" were kicking some serious ass! They were each in the middle of the street, brawling and punching and I saw my Ex Ass punching one in the face and kicking another that was down on the ground.(which I later found out is a felony because in MA the foot is considered a dangerous weapon) J ran out to the middle of the street where her husband K was now on top of an Asian youth, pounding the shit out of him. She was trying to pull him off of the kid, and we then tried to pull her off of him. Quickly, the Jets started to retreat and soon, they all hobbled away, except for the one Ex Ass had kicked in the head. He was still down on the ground.

We ran for the door and took the stairs to the floor where the cars were. So we thought. There was blood and screaming and craziness still going on between us, and for the next few minutes we walked around lost. There was no logic or sanity amongst us at this point. We then heard the sirens. And the thing with the sirens was that they were suddenly getting louder and louder. I can only speak for myself, but I know that my pulse was near triple time it's flutter capacity, so panic was not far off. By some miracle, we arrived at our cars parked side by side and I watched A take a gun (none of us knew he had) out of his holster and stash it in his trunk. (incredibly, he never once pulled that weapon during the events of the evening) We stood together and debated our next move.

We were cognizant enough to realize that the police would be waiting for us down below and because there was no escape, we decided to walk down the stairs and confront our reality. Sure enough, when we got downstairs the flashing red lights were blinding. There were 3 cop cars and one ambulance, blocking the front of the garage and I saw Little Miss, standing in front of the ambulance, in her jean jacket and bra (completely visible) with an ice pack on her face. A few members of the Jets were sitting on the back of the open ambulance, ice packs in hand and bloody bandages, but the one that had been kicked by Ex-Ass was lying on a stretcher.

The police were waiting for us and two cops came directly for us, intent on keeping us a safe distance from our enemy. "You wanna tell us your version what happened here?" the cop said. All of us, now stone cold sober because adrenaline and fighting will do that to you, looked at each other and the Ex-Ass began to talk.( he was always the best liar) I then heard the cop say that this was a racially motivated incident and that the Jets were going to press assault charges on the guys and that Little Miss wanted to press charges on me.. We went forth with the, "she struck first" thing and for the next hour there was a lot of back and forth between the cops that were talking with the Jets and the cops that were talking with us. Finally, they let the Jets go, they then took the kid on the stretcher away in the ambulance and they let us go. They told us they would be contacting us tomorrow about the charges.

Who the hell knows what time it was when I reached my home, but I was never more happy to see my house than that night.

That fateful night.

What we all decided later was that all of that craziness would have NEVER transpired, had the scene with C&T in the restaurant not happened.

We never heard a word about the charges, nor heard from the cops again.

And that, my friends, is why I will NEVER discuss politics in mixed company.


Jim said...

Wow . . . so the t-shirt just ripped right off? Awesome.

Yeesss, I read the other stuff, too :-)


Anonymous said...

I'm not a racist. I have everyone.

Here's my version. Little miss thang then instantly grabbed my boulder holder and began to tear at it feverishly until it too snapped off of my body. At that point we were grasping at each others hair and bare breasts. We fell to the ground where I was on top and she wrapped her legs around me to try and gain some control, she then wrapped both arms around me as our breasts were now flat to each others chests and boobs were squeezing out the sides like oreo cookie cream. THEN she had the ovaries to stick her LONG ASS tongue down my throat. The cigarrets and vodka on her breath were in their own right, an aphrodisiac and my body let loose the tension and I found myself kissing back......

THAT is a MUCH better visual with my lovely Candice. XOXO

Anonymous said...

That would be "cigarettes"

Heff said...


Ok, that was worth the read, lol.

Candy's daily Dandy said...

For the record, we were not 40 at the time. I was in my mid thirties and the words Little Miss used? Dems was fighting words...

Jim- yup. I can play me some dirty pool if I have to. And I think you might be onto something with the Real Housewives of Middlesex County.....

Bama- Wow! I gotta say your titillating version of events is very impressive indeed. nice work, maybe we should collaborate on a story some time. Unfortunately for me, my life hardly ever resembles cheap porn.

Heffy-I know you liked Bamas version better...

Anonymous said...

Just let me know, we can write something to work Heff up into a sweaty ballzak at work and then let him guess which of us wrote what, no, don't tell him, he will be confused as to who wrote what and feel awkward about what to jerk of to or not to jerk off to.

Signed - BamaTrav
aka Tools McGregor

Heff said...

Hell, I ALREADY feel awkward when choosing "Jerk Material".

sybil law said...

Pictures would've been great with this post. At least some old pics of you around the same time, anyway. :)

Scope said...

I think walking down to the cops was the right idea. Obviously not trying to flee the scene.

And guys, "Little Miss" was probably named that for a reason. :-(

the walking man said...

Now that is the Boston I knew in the early 70's when we took our shore leave there. You could get in a brawl for saying "Man love them Yankee's"

We sailors loved the place.

I have been there n that mental state of not here not now, not those words because the night is already fucked. I took two guys down wailed on them but the third stomped my ankle and broke it clean through. *shrug* It healed, I married Joann in a full leg cast and never drank in a bar again.

If you ask me ex-ass and the others did OK, did the right thing in the end, rule one around here is no one, and I mean no gets a pass when they fuck with my wife, after a few lessons taught everyone leaves her be when she is outside (which is most of the day) doing whatever the hell it is she does for her "projects."

In short no shame no blame and if you don't want to talk politics we can always talk about religion. ha ha ha ha

Cora said...

You ripped her shirt off her! Ha! Nice! Oh Gog, I'm so glad no charges were ever filed though. That could have been ugly.

Dr Zibbs said...