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Prick

A couple days ago, at around 11 pm, Ema and I were waiting at a bus stop in downtown London. When we sat down on the bench a sketchy-looking man sitting to Ema’s left turned to us rubbed his fingers together and mumbled something that indicated that he probably would have liked it if we had given him some money. We ignored him, and continued waiting for the bus. Eventually, he stood up from the bench, stepped in front of me and asked in a perfectly civilized fashion, “I’d like to ask you a question. Were you born looking like a prick or did you become one gradually as you grew up?” I kind of sat there a little bit stunned and then eventually said, “I become one gradually as I was growing up.” The guy kind of stood there and didn’t quite know what to say. He eventually went to stand someplace else. I think he may have been high on something.