take my wife...

Back in the late eighties, I worked as an assistant manager at a corporate bookstore in Downtown LA, and walked a few blocks from my bus stop everyday...

You get to know and nod at the regulars, and avoid the unfortunates who were out of their minds, but who were also regulars.

One such, Nora, was a 300 lb. 50 something African American woman who would just love to follow people down "her" block and scream continuously if they didn't say hello to her as they passed...

I usually said "Good Morning" to avoid a scene.

One day, I was walking a few blocks from Nora's area during my lunch, when I see her at the other end of the block coming in my direction.

Then I realized that she was making a straight line at me, looking rather unhappy.

I move to the other side of the sidewalk, and she adjusts course, shoving pedestrians aside, now angrier. And closer.

And when a bee hived unwashed 300 lb woman wrapped in various ill fitting dresses is looking cross eyed at you and now pointing, you begin to feel a tad anxious.

Had I forgotten to say "hello" in the morning? Was my new wave suit and tie too loud? So many thoughts bubbling, but here comes Nora straight at me with all the determination of a torpedo aimed dead ahead.

She's walking pretty fast, I try to step aside and she slams into me with all her body and I get body slammed onto my back on the sidewalk all in an instant.

She yells "HA! YOU IS MY HUSBAND!", begins to cackle and walks away.

I stay on the ground until the cackling seems far enough, and the rare few honestly concerned people have formed a ring around me.

One asks: "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, just stunned."

Another asks: "Do you know that crazy bitch?"

And all I can say is

"That was no bitch, that was my wife."

Ba bum, bum bum.