Lately, The Establishment has been quiet. Less people in and out. No children and infants hanging outside. It was the calm before the storm.
As The Husband and I were leaving to head out to Arlington yesterday, a… gentleman left The Establishment. He looked inebriated. At the very least hopped up on something. His gait was swirvey at best and he didn’t look like he was of sound mind. He was in front of us by a few yards. Then the spectacular shouting match started.
From behind us, another… gentleman started to engage the head lady at The Establishment in what can only be described as the “no, YOU’RE a crackhead” argument.
It goes a little something like this:
Head Lady in Charge: You’re a fucking scumbag!
Gentleman: I’m a scumbag? You’re a fucking crackhead! Fucking meth head!
*back and forth for a minute on each being scumbags, crack heads, meth heads and crazy pieces of shit*
Gentleman: Just remember, my cousin is a cop you bitch!
HLIC: You’re a fucking scumbag! Your crackhead!
The man ahead of us, looking like he was a tweaker who just got some sweet Shaboo, stopped and waited for the other gentleman and they walked off into the hot afternoon together.
Because Gloucester.
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