Posted by jukkahoo
So, there I was. Face to face with a foul-mouthed jogging-suit-wearing soccer-dad (or whatever), who was spouting obscenities and promises of a sound trashing. Me, I had Martti on the leash on my left hand and Myy on my right. The soccer-dad had just run over the curb, leaving his 10-12 year old progeny to the backseat.
My crime? Walking over the street. With two dogs. And overweight, which seemed to be the most egrerious of this numskull's complaints, together with the rearranging of my facial features.
I admit, I wasn't using pedestrian crossing, but that was mainly due to the fact that there is none. And as there was no sidewalk either, I was forced to move to the other side. While watching that there were no cars too near for us to go across.
Until the Herr Speedmaster arrived, probably late and driving over the speedlimit. And stepping on the pedal when he saw us not going to stop. Which we did, as I was aghast of getting either one of our wee ones maimed by this… person.
He shouted something from the car, to which I (stoopid, I know) just had to respond. But while he used language not befitting to the company he was keeping, I remained civil. I merely confessed my worries regarding the wellbeing of our dogs.
To which this boor responded with the actions depicted in the first paragraph.
It's been a while since I was threatened with physical violence out of workplace. Not that I'm used to such behaviour at workplace, but there this is not completely uncommon. It was a bit harangueing. The dolt was clearly looking for a fight, even when driving to a practice session with his kid, and was in no mood to listen to reason (which was the reason I didn't need the feel to apologise for running in front of him, which I guess I might have done, if he'd just stopped and complained a bit more civilly). I guess, the main reason for him not puching me, was the fact that I was holding the dogs with both hands, so I was like, you know… pussy unarmed. How sporting of him.
And maybe, somewhere in his boiling turnip of his, there was that realisation, that he was actually just giving his son a life-long lesson of dealing with fat, dog-walking idiots. Maybe repartee was what the doctor ordered. Witty commentary, yes, that's the ticket!
I don't think the sodding simpleton realised that he was on Elisa CCTV all the time. In hindsight, I don't care. Myy and Martti are OK (Martti may be a bit traumatised, he is scared of noises and sudden movements, which this nincampoop provided plenty of) and I didn't suffer the fool. I mean, damages.
Eating Muffins 