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A Fistfight at The Taylor Corral: How An Uniformed and Egregious Event Turned Into Much, Much More.

 As I was exiting the library at which I work. I as I walked out, a rusty 2004 Ford Ranger rattled into the parking. In Taylor, that was a common occurrence, and I kept heading to my Hyundai Santa Fe. I had reached my door, when I heard someone shout:


                            "Hey, [F-Slur]!"

As a gay man, naturally, I turned, but was met with something much worse than I expected. I thought I'd be met with a 6'5 hung-like-a-horse baldman Nazi with a swastika engraved on his face (just my type), but instead, I was met with a short, dumpy white broad. And her fist. Next thing I knew, my head cracked with the curb, and my lip was bleeding. I looked up. My god, she was an ogre.  An ill-fitting gray tank top that read "Lake Michigan" covered giant, pendulous breasts, and blue shorts (which were clearly once sweatpants) covered the rest of her skin- which was badly sunburnt. Her faded bleach-blonde hair held high in a bun; white Oakley sunglasses perched on the back of her head. At first, I didn't know why my lip was bleeding, until I saw her several Faux diamond wedding rings.  Obviously, someone was looking for an outlet for their rage (I too, would be filled with rage if I looked like her)
   
Quickly, I hopped to my feet. I rustled through my computer bag, and retrieved a sock of nickels, and started swinging. "Want some, bitch? You want some? You want some, you goddamn cunt?" I asked, angrily. She backed up but was cornered by my Santa Fe. I thwapped her several times with the nickel, and the last one was the money shot- I hit her so hard, her Oakley's broke, with one side of the broken leg poking into the sock, and the other jagged side scraping down her cheek as I recoiled my arm. Soon, she started gushing blood. Due to some passerby's running into the library, my supervisor rushed out. "Woah, woah! Woah! What the hell are you doing, B?" my super asked. I swiped blood from my chin, and looked at him- hate in my eyes, and venom on my tongue. "This fucking bitch hate crimed me! She called me a [f-slur] and punched me!" My super was shocked. He looked at the woman, bleeding, and sweaty. "Ma'am, is this true?" She nodded. "Yeah, it's true! But this [f-slur] right here fuckin' killed his husband, and that other [f-slur], and I wanted justice for 'em! I want some fuckin' justice round here!" I snapped my head at her, and shouted "My husband isn't dead, you goddamn bitch! He's in the hospital! What're you, Batman?" My super placed his hand on my chest. "Calm. Down," he whispered. He looked at the woman, and sternly said "Well, ma'am. One of the librarians is already calling- Oh, they're here. Goodie," just as a police cruiser rolled into the parking lot.

I sat on the curb, my lip covered in gauze, and smoking a cigarette. Officer X (I wouldn't feel right giving out his name) was talking to me. "I already told ya, buster," I said, puffing on my cigarette, "That fuckin' strumpet, that fuckin' whore, came up to me, called me a slur, and hit me." The officer was taken aback and jotted a few lines on his tiny notepad. "Well, Mr. Bee, she claims that you beat her senseless with a- sock of nickels- Is that true?" I smiled, crusted blood on my teeth. "You're goddamn right I did," I said. "May I ask why you find it necessary to carry that with your work things?" Officer X asked. "Well, Officer X, as you're a straight man and a police officer, I think it's safe to assume you'd never have this sort of thing happen to you. After Pulse, I always carry something to defend myself with. And I was being targeted. It was a hate crime."

On the other side of the parking lot, the woman was VERY LOUDLY declaring "I didn't know that motherfucker was gay, I just say that you sumbitches, you motherfuckers, I'll sue the hell out you!" when I interrupted. "You shouldn't be saying it period, bitch! You fucking bitch!" She was shocked. "You want me to come over there and kick the shit outya!?" I smiled. "Bring it."

In short, it was a fight of epic proportions. The Taylor Police did what they usually do and waited until the last minute to use excessive force. Me and the woman were punching, slapping, biting, pulling, and kicking each other for at least 5 minutes, when Officer W stepped in, and tased the woman. I started laughing, and step away when he moved toward me. I put my hands up. The woman ended up getting arrested for perpetrating a hate crime. I drove home, scot free, and blasted some L7 to get the anger out (Smell The Magic is heavenly, 10/10 recommend). 

Well, anyways, that's my story. Oh, and Taylor woman? 

ya garbage!

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