I was biking home from the gym today, holding my bike lock in my had, when I saw what I thought might be some sort of domestic dispute between a young couple. As it turns out, they were just play fighting but for a moment there I thought I might have had to go upside this dude's head with a u-lock.
Here is the little scene in my stupid head that I wrote in that fleeting moment:
Dr. Ken: Hey, buddy. Why don't you leave the little lady alone
(little lady is kind of demeaning and sexist, but that's just how old fashioned chivalrous types talk)
Man: Just stay out of this, Lance Armstrong. This doesn't concern you. Or your one nut.
Dr. Ken: It certainly doesn't involve Lance's testicle, so yeah, we'll leave that out, but it does concern me now because there is no way I'm leaving without . . . doing something. Are you okay, miss?
Woman: No. I'm not. He's an asshole and he's drunk and mean.
Man: You shut your stupid mouth, woman! And let me and Armstrong finish our conversation.
(This is kind of how stereotypical wife beating types talk, I think)
Dr. Ken: Listen, why don't we just put you two in a cab and call it a night.
Man: Sure. We could do that. Or I could whip the ever-loving tar out of your stupid hipster ass.
the man begins to roll up his sleeves and walk towards Dr. Ken in a threatening manner
Dr. Ken: (stepping off his bike and wielding his bike lock) Think this through. I don't want to clock you with this bike lock, and you don't want to get hit with one.
The truth of the matter is that I would probably just pull around the corner and call the police. If I did opt for the U-Lock beating, I would likely miss with a piss-poor flailing attempt and get beat up. Probably the girl would even get a few licks in, and they would resolve their differences by agreeing that I'm a giant pussy.