This weekend, I had the pleasure of patronizing the annual “Knotts Scary Farm,” the Orange County Mecca of Halloween Entertainment.  It’s the home of numerous haunted mazes, roller coasters that seem to go faster in the moonlit sky, and the stomping ground of a teenaged trollop who didn’t bring enough cash for a soda.

After a long evening of fun, I headed toward the exit, hand in hand with my girlfriend.  Through the throngs of people, I heard a faint cry for help.

About 15 feet to my left, a girl who looked between 14 and 16 years of age was standing next to a food stand with her hands waiving at any and every person walking past.

“Can you spare dollars?  I’m short on money for a soda,” she said, politely.

Unfortunately for her, I was out of hard cash and wasn’t about to buy her a $4 beverage with my debit card.  I looked at her, smiled, and said sorry, but no.

Her extended hand soon turned into a fist and her middle finger pointed up in retaliation.  The rage immediately built within me, and I retorted with the first thought that came to my head:

“Thanks for giving me the middle finger, you cunt.”

We kept walking and I was unable to see her reaction.  One could guess it was apathy, as that was probably not the first time she’s been referred to as such.

To my surprise, my girlfriend did not chastise me for using the C-word.  Partly because she was tired, but mostly, I think, because she agreed.

Upon arriving home I opened up a can of Coke Zero and dumped its contents into the sink as an act of defiance to this horrible human being.  Hopefully, she went home thirsty.  If it were up to me, she’d never again be able to enjoy a soda pop for the rest of her life, not even the generic brands.

Trollop.