Near-Death in Venice

That's Venice Beach, California, for our international readers.

As I pulled out of my parking spot on a residential street in Venice and began picking up speed, a woman came out of nowhere and side-checked my vehicle with her purse. I was convinced I must have committed involuntary manslaughter and I felt it was important to make sure the woman was alive, so I stopped abruptly. That’s when this leather-jacketed, 40yr old, entirely unattractive broad hopped into my car and told me to, “Move it!”

I stayed put.

Now that could’ve been because I was in shock, but it’s also possible that I’m naturally calm and rational under duress.

Suddenly, a broad-shouldered beefcake appeared running towards us at TOP SPEED from around the corner. “GO! GO bitch!” she screamed at me but I didn’t move. Again, that could’ve been because I was frozen senseless with fear and horror but it’s also possible I was unaccommodating because the cunt-whore beside me was calling me names.

Her boyfriend quickly climbed atop my vehicle and once he got into a spread-eagle position demanded me to, “GET THAT SLUT OUT OF YOUR CAR.” But just as quickly he folded, took a slight crawl towards the passenger side and pressed his mouth against my windshield. He kissed it and in a sweeter appeal said, “Baby they’re going to kill me if I don’t give them that money.” This didn’t work either so climbed off my hood, screamed primally, ripped his shirt from his body, then tore his shirt into smaller shreds WITH HIS TEETH.

This was the moment when I finally pressed the gas.

In some sort of divine providence there were two female cops who’d pulled over a teenage driver around the corner, so I gave them my statement and ole Leather-Jacket finally got out of my car.

There is a moral to the story and that is: Always Lock Your Car Doors. That way when a wayward girlfriend tries to climb into your vehicle, she can’t get in. No need to get caught in the middle when domestic disturbance takes to the streets.