... and a young man pulled up in front of me in one of those old, built-like-a-tank F-150's. Now this young man had what I would call a trailer-park demeanor. He looked from side to side as he approached the pump, spitting chew out onto the ground as he wiped his trucker cap across the shoulder of a ratty t-shirt. He looked back at me once with a big evil grin, showing yellow teeth and a scar on his upper lip.
He looked back at the pump and started to mutter some nonsense in hillbilly-NASCAR speak; apparently he did not find the price of gasoline agreeable. Cursing to himself, the young man began to fill up his tank with gas. All the while, this man continued to speak to himself under his breath - it was at this point that I transitioned from curious to worried, as even the normal words this man was using made little sense when put together. Needless to say, I had gotten the slowest pump and was going nowhere until it finished glugging the gas into my car.
The young redneck was more fortunate than I or just cheaper, and reached to pull out the gas handle - unfortunately, he failed to release the trigger on the handle, and gasoline came spilling out all over the side of his truck and the redneck himself.
The cussing began in earnest at this point. He yelled a loud "FUCK THIS HERE KAMA-SUTRA BULLSHIT", which I still don't know the meaning of, save that this man was angry. The redneck marched away from the pump and into the convenience store, where he appeared to belligerently berate the poor Pakistani attendant. This went on for some time, and I had finally finished pumping my gas when the redneck returned in vitriolic fashion to his truck, swearing again under his breath; this time about some Ay-Rab Jew mongrel and something about hooker tits.
Feeling that the best of the show was over, I finally got in my car to leave. Just as I buckled up, I noticed that the redneck had lit a cigarette next to his truck. I quickly fumbled for my keys - I was not going to be brought to the gates of hell alongside this moron, and sure enough the young man flicked his cigarette on the ground.
The flame lashed up his gas-stained jeans and shirt as soon as the ember touched the soiled concrete. He had not spilled much on his clothes; the majority of the gas had apparently spilled onto his arm and hand. The man raised his arm in terror, shrieking as it was fully engulfed in flame. I was frozen in shock, and before I could recover from my cowardice a police officer raced passed my car and dragged the man away from the gas pumps. He quickly made the man roll on the ground and the fire was out before it could spread to the man's face, or worse, the rest of us in the gas station parking lot.
The officer walked over to me and several other witnesses, and he asked us to stick around to give a testimony over what happened. I did so, and told him just what I've said here - minus the mongrel and hooker tits stuff.
The officer released us and I was just about to go when I saw that he was writing the redneck a ticket. I have to admit - I was curious. I politely walked back up to the officer and asked, "Excuse me sir, it's none of my business, but I couldn't help but notice that you were writing this man a ticket. Given that he just went through a such a terrifying experience, do you mind me asking what he did to deserve a ticket?"
The officer apparently didn't mind me asking at all. "I don't like to do it son, but the law is the law. You can't just go around anywhere waving a firearm."
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