[well, you've got your diamonds]

I’ve never been in a fight before.

At three in the morning I slam on my breaks.

“You mother fucker,” I swear under my breath and throw it in park.

Getting out of my car I see them stagger a little faster, stumble a little straighter, try to get the fuck away from whatever or whoever is getting out of their car.
It must have been a relief to see me standing there, because they started to lag

“Hey BRO!” I say as I round the front of my car.

“I love you!” he yells back in a drunken slur and keeps walking.

Nice, I think and lean down to get a closer look.
“Thanks for trying to fucking kill me!”

Picking up the blinking road cone that was recently hurled in front of my car at 40 miles per hour, I throw it as hard as I can.

Considering my severe lack of upper body strength, it went pretty far.
As far as I needed it to anyhow.

Screaming as the cone collides with the backs of his legs he takes off running, his two chotch bag companions not far behind.

Satisfied with myself, I immediately turn back to my car when some asshole lays on his horn.

I stop dead, are you kidding me?

“FUCK YOU!” I shout making two of my best hand gestures, and wait for the repercussions.

I’ve never been in a fight before.
Yet here I am, standing in the middle of the street challenging an eight car back up to get out of their cars and make something of it.
I must have looked mental because no one so much as rolled down the window.

I walked back to my car looking tougher then I know I am, and slammed the door.
At 3:30 am, I make it home.

Fucking bros.