The man tapped my shoulder. I turned around. It was night, in an alley. His features were blurred, blue-green, indistinct. He may have had a beard or mustache. I don’t know.
“I got a bad case of the titty-shits!” he snarled.
“TITTY-SHITS! Got ‘em BAD!”
I paused—that was my downfall. He punched me in the nose. I was stunned. He found my wallet and fled. I dropped to my knees.
The police came. I told them what happened. More or less. When it got to the part about what he’d said, I couldn’t get it out.
“He said what?” the woman cop looked up from her notepad.
“‘Titty...’” I couldn’t say the whole thing for some reason. It seemed so stupid and silly. Made me feel foolish.