AND my favourite pair of sunglasses got fucked up, too.

I was on my way to the cafe for my usual Saturday afternoon therapy of lattes and writing. I took the long way in, and while on the #55 bus after a nice, long walk I get assaulted by, well for lack of a better means of identifying him, a French-speaking separatist of middle years starts getting pissy with me about the Canadian flag on my backpack. We had words, which mainly consisted of me telling him to mind his own fucking business and him bitching and acting offended as he insulted me.

Getting off at my stop--or should I say attempting to--he blocked the door and started shoving me, grabbing me and trying to land a punch. Then this OTHER fat fuck starts it too. Everyone is yelling--AT ME--telling ME to stop it, when all I'm trying to do is fucking DEFEND MYSELF.

Finally, I get off the bus, half thrown off by this motherfucker.

My coat's stitching is pulled--thank God I have needle and thread in my backpack. But meanwhile, I'm angry as fuck, my face is scratched (Pussy used his nails) and I just can't stop fucking shaking.

It is clear that we are no longer going to be allowed to live in peace in this Province.

Let history show, however, that we did not start this.