Crazy

My subway ride to work on a Friday usually involves getting my teeth into some juicy theatre gossip courtesy of Michael Riedel in the New York Post.  Michael can be quite deadly in his commentary.  Today, however, death threats were directed at me.  Perhaps it was payback for something I wrote last week about being on the subway.  A black guy, who was sitting opposite me, decided he didn’t like the look of me, and started making threats to “murder” [that’s the word he used] me.  Here we go again, I thought to myself.  This sort of thing happens all the time.  

There’s run-of-the-mill crazy, which I encounter a lot because this is New York, and then there’s dangerous crazy.  I sensed that he fell into the latter category, so I threw caution to the wind and said loudly in my most disparaging tone, “Did you forget to take your meds this morning?”  Well, you can imagine!  That really set him off.  I haven’t heard so many references to c*ck sucking since I was in Coney Island.  

What some avid and regular readers don’t know about me is this: in my first hour in New York, on my first day in America, I was accosted at gunpoint and mugged.  Since that happened, I resolved never to take snash from anyone ever again.  It’s just as well I’m not armed and dangerous.