Dear Diary,
I was at Orile on Wednesday. As I got there, a young thug started beating a young lady up, and she was not having it. She kicked back, screaming and clawing at him. He kept pummelling her, in public. You know how public Orile is. Next thing you know, a bigger thug tore off his shirt and started beating the younger thug. He punched him, pushed him in front of cars, thankfully the traffic was tight so the cars weren’t moving any faster than freshly-fed anacondas.
A crowd gathered to watch the spectacle, and before I knew what it, everyone started beating each other up. Punches were thrown without a care, spit flew in every direction, bags and shoes were hurled at people. It was a freak show.
And there I was caught in the middle of it.
How I managed to escape the mob action is a miracle.
When I managed to crawl out from the middle of the action without a scratch or being pulled back in, I saw a couple of Police Officers standing by, watching the action and laughing.
The Nerve!!!
THE END!!!
thewittyjournalblog 