Why So Serious?

I enjoy a good, hearty giggle when there’s a human spectacle occurring before my very eyes, but when that human spectacle is barreling towards me in the middle of the street with a handheld garden tool, I draw the line.

I own a scooter and park it around my building because I live in a garden-level apartment and can keep an eye on it if I lift the blinds in my living room. I own a Genuine Scooter Company “Buddy” scooter. It has a 50cc 2-stroke engine and uses the same type of oil as a lawnmower. It’s not exactly the most intimidating or loudest vehicle on the road, but it rubbed one man the wrong way.

I scoot over approximately three feet of sidewalk to gain access to the street I live on and have been doing so for over a year. Recently my boyfriend purchased a 50cc scooter. One beautiful day while on his scooter and as we were leaving my house, a pudgy middle-aged man with presumable poor vision and smudgy glasses took a wide-legged stance on the sidewalk, blocking our path.

“It is illegal for a motorized scooter to be on the sidewalk! Get off the sidwalk!”

He was yelling at us like a senile senior citizen yells at kids tramping on grass. We simply scooted off the sidewalk and up the street, slightly buzzed from his harsh overreaction.

The next day my boyfriend and I were exiting via scooter the same way we always have. As we were turning the corner we both said to each other, “Wouldn’t it be funny if we got yelled at ag–.”

“Hey, f!%@heads! Get. Off. My. Sidewalk!”

Skip forward about a quarter mile down the road and at a T-junction with a stop sign where we have lawfully stopped our scooter.

[Crazy Man, on bicycle, enters STAGE LEFT in a frenzied rage. Crashes on left side of scooter. Flips over handlebars.]

Our first reaction wasn’t panic, it was puzzlement. We weren’t in the wrong, so how and why did this man crash into us? I left my asphalt-camouflage ensemble at home that day, and my Harry Potter Cloak of Invisibility was at the dry cleaners.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Did you not see the stop sign?” Asked my boyfriend.

This man, shoeless and screw-loose, had this ghastly and crazed look in his eyes. I wasn’t sure if this man thought we were in the wrong for the impact and that’s why he looked angry, but then he opened his mouth.

“Now you know how serious I am. Stay the [bleep] off of my sidewalk!”

He threw his helmet at my feet as he rose from the heap of bicycle and was gripping this rusty gardening tool in his knobby hand, swearing and yelling every other second. When I asked him why he didn’t have shoes on but managed to bring a spade, he barked, “Because I was. Working!”

When my boyfriend mentioned calling the police if this shoeless crusader didn’t leave us alone, he started to wheel his bicycle away. People that formed around our scene told us to get away from him. We did end up calling the cops but the slimy bugger pedaled away. The officer did say if he was at it again to call back.

Vengeance will be mine.

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