Ringing in 2010 as only I know how.

So I’m sitting in Christina’s car, talking on the phone and waiting for her to get out of the post office. I’m playing absentmindedly with her keychain. And there’s this large, odd-shaped, bullet-like thing on there that says Spitfire. At the crest of the oval sits a thick switch. I push it in and up. Nothing happens. “Hm.” I think. “Maybe it’s broken.” So I push it again.

A jet of fine mist shoots up and out the top of the object, perfume perhaps? Then I breathe. Fire runs down my throat and into my lungs, as I leap, screaming, from the car. “FUCKING SHIT!” I yell into the phone, coughing and hacking to beat the band. “I think I just MACED myself!” My phone companion laughs at me. Christina, upon learning of my mishap, calls me an idiot. (“That was pepper spray, you moron!”) But I found it a fitting way to start my last day in LA – after all, who but me would do such a thing? Fucking pepper spray. God. And also, ouch.

2 Responses to Ringing in 2010 as only I know how.

  1. Patrick says:

    haha at least it wasn't a taser.

    Like

  2. StephL! says:

    That is an awesome story. And totally something I would do too.

    Like

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