The DoucheA great night, shot to hell.
I spent a wonderful evening in the company of my loving Niamh, only to return her to her apartment and walk back to my car and find that I was being ticketed by a rent-a-narc who had to be AT LEAST 80 years old...
Here is the approximate dialogue:
Me: (noticing security truck blocking my car) Umm, sir. Can I help you?
Douche: What?
Me: This is my car.
Douche: Yes, and I am ticketing it.
Me: Why?
Douche: Because you are parked in a reserved space.
Me: Where does it say that?
Douche: It is a numbered spot. Some person paid more to have this spot.
Me: There is no sign posted saying that the numbered spots are reserved and I may be ticketed for parking in it.
Douche: (realizing I may be right) So what, you can't park there.
Me: (becoming irritated) There is no sign posted.
Douche: (getting into truck, becoming angry) It doesn't matter... I have to ticket you and steal your soul so that I may live forever.
(revealing his true form of a dark demon of unimaginable terror)Me: You have no power over me for I am the chosen one...
Douche: My dark powers are omnipotent. There is no saving you now, foolish mortal!
(evil laugh)So then we did battle on the death fields in the frozen seventh level of Hell, until I smote his ruined carcass at the shores of the Black Ocean.
And so, the Douche was defeated, and the peasants rejoiced. The land was safe again, thanks to my brave efforts.
But hey, at least I didn't get a ticket. Peace...