May Your Evening Be Asshole-Free

“May your evening be asshole-free!”is not just the name of my next Ska band, it’s what I think I shall start to tell friends as I depart their company of an evening.

My day was most decidedly not asshole-free.

This morning, a young, heavily-muscled munchkin walked into court, and started asking questions while we were in session. The judge told him to leave. He did as ordered, but the man-child decided to loudly announce his discontent as he departed, using expletives.

I informed him in no uncertain terms that such behavior was unacceptable.

He puffed, pouted, and petulantly called me any number of (and because he lacked creativity, the same) expletives as he walked away. The hall was packed with people, making his childish act and his hateful speech very public.

“You just a bitch without that gun and badge,” he called, over his shoulder.

I did not engage with his screeching attempts to poo-fling my direction.  I had better things to do.

I returned to my other duties.  I started to let it go.

Twenty minutes later, he has the temerity to ask for assistance.

It being my duty, I agreed to assist him.

As we stepped out into the hallway, now empty of persons, I said to him, “So, if, as you claim, I am a bitch, what does that make you?”

“Huh?” was the pithy wisdom he chose to answer my query with.

“Well, earlier, you were quite clear in claiming that you were absolutely certain that I am a bitch without my star and gun. So now, I was just wondering: if a person asks a bitch for assistance, would that not make you that bitch’s bitch, however temporarily?”

“What?” the philosopher asked.

“Do I really need to make it more clear, sir?”

Clearly wishing he were elsewhere, the bumpy little twerp chose to attempt to misdirect me, “I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.”

“I see. And do you usually shout curses at someone and then seek their assistance?”

“Dude, I wasn’t shouting.”

I just looked at him.

“Alright, I wasn’t that loud.”

“Be a man: there’s no one else here to hear you say it.”

“I was shouting.”



“You were shouting aaaand?”


I cupped a hand behind my ear, “I can’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“A sincere apology must be as public as the act that required it, but since everyone else knew where they had to be and have since cleared the hall, and it is my duty when wearing my uniform, star and gun, I will assist you.”


“No need to thank me, it’s what I’m paid to do. Now, let’s see where you’re supposed to be…”