Crash Course In Diplomacy

I had to go to the police station again over the weekend ... since my little paintball episode last year, I've become a household name among my local community law enforcers. I don't mind really -- no publicity is bad, as they say. It's all good, in other words, and I have to agree. Misunderstood and persecuted, yes, but infamy and fame are just different ends of the same tightrope, and I am remarkable at keeping my balance.

I digress ... as I was saying, I had to visit the local copshop because of another unfortunate incident. I was still interviewing potential receptionists at my office late on Friday evening, and on my way home I stopped at a believing neighbour's home to drop off the manuscript of my latest book. The working title is A Missionary Guide to Africa's Finest Paintball Destinations. This elderly neighbour, bless her soul, is one of my proofreaders. I was late for my family's regular Friday Game's Evening -- we were going to try out a pirated version of the Eternal Forces video game -- so I left my car running in her driveway while I dropped off the manuscript. Before I knew what the blazes was going on, I heard a screech and loud bang and then even louder cursing from the street. At the first nanosecond hint of danger, I had flung my body heroically over the poor old dear, to protect her from danger in case it was an assassination attempt.

It turns out that my handbrake was not up and my car had rolled back into the street, into an oncoming vehicle.

To make matters worse, my heroic dive to save my proofreader's precious, godly life from the possible terrorist attack, broke several brittle bones in her body. She is recovering in hospital and promises to proofread while she lies in bed.

But this is not half as bad as the crash. The person driving was none other than the father of one of the kids I had taught a good lesson to about worshiping Satan on Halloween. I can see where the kid gets his evil ways from -- the fuck yous and you bloody stupid piece of horse shit comments that emitted from his vile mouth were like lethal bullets aimed at my righteous soul.

His car was a bit buckled and so was mine, but thank the good Lord for insurance.

I went to the police station to both report the incident and lay a charge of character assassination on the unbelieving, foul-mouthed [word deleted]. I guess I'll be back in court again as well ...

Fight the good fight. And please remember to pull up your handbrake.