How Smugsy got away.
When O.G. wasn’t available Smugsy usually took the bus into Providence. She loved walking the East Side through the Brown campus and up and down Thayer Street. She fantasized about buying shoes at Berk’s and saw movies at the Avon Cinema.
One day Smugsy missed the bus and it began to rain so she hitchhiked.
The man driving the car didn’t seem strange until he pointed at his crotch demanding attention to it using obscenities.
Smugsy told the man to jump off a cliff and he became enraged. Speeding and driving erratically and aggressively, the man yelled and cursed at Smugsy, pointing to his crotch, and making other gestures with his hands.
They were speeding, swerving and changing lanes on I-95. Jumping out was not an option.
The man became increasingly agitated. He drove faster, curled his upper lip and looked sideways at Smugsy as he cursed. Spittle collected at the corners of his mouth.
Smugsy saw the sign for the Gano Street exit where she wanted to get dropped off. Walking in the rain now made a lot of sense.
There was no reasoning with the man who by now was sweating as he cursed and sped and pointed to his crotch. It saddened Smugsy to think what it would take to get dropped off at Gano Street. She would have to compromise her morals and was ashamed.
“STOP THIS FUCKING CAR YOU ASSHOLE,” Smugsy suddenly shrieked at the top of her lungs like a lunatic.
STOP THIS FUCKING CAR RIGHT THIS MINUTE!
DID YOU HEAR ME? STOP THIS FUCKING CAR! RIGHT NOW!
I SAID STOP THIS FUCKING CAR! she screeched.
The man’s eyes got large and he looked confused. Smugsy took it a up a notch, bellowing even louder.
STOP THIS FUCKING CAR YOU MORON!
And she began taunting him with her hands as she screamed bloody murder.
STOP THIS FUCKING CAR, YOU IMBECILE!
The man put both his hands on the steering wheel and looked ahead.
YOU STUPID NO-GOOD MOTHER-FUCKING ASSHOLE!
Suddenly the man skidded across two lanes of traffic and stopped the car abruptly on the side of I-95, a half mile or so from the Gano Street exit.
Smugsy got out of the car and instinctively thanked the man for the ride, who looked perplexed and sped off into the night leaving Smugsy in the rain on the side of the road as he found her 15 minutes earlier.
Another time Smugsy got away was in college. She shared a big house on Union Street in Burlington with 3 girls from the university and 2 girls from a near-bye private college for mediocre students.
Lulu, the mediocre girl from New Jersey, had a thing for meathead frat boys at the University, especially Mike from Sigma New.
Mike had ridiculously big muscles and boasted about his level of consumption. He was a foot ball player and dumb, therefore popular and conceited.
One night Lulu begged Smugsy to go to a party at the University to see Mike.
Since she was mediocre and from New Jersey, Smugsy felt bad for Lulu so she agreed.
It was difficult at the party for Smugsy to fake interest in Mike or Sigma New. She was bored so she mocked and ridiculed him. She scorned and scoffed, practicing being sarcastic.
“Can you spell numbskull?” she goaded.
Mike was so dumb he thought Smugsy was flirting.
After a couple dozen beers Mike got sloppy and hands-on. His shirt came untucked as he swaggered and gulped. He got a look in his eye that was dangerous.
It was time for Smugsy to leave the party.
Lulu and the other mediocre girl were crying and slow dancing. A girl from the University was throwing up. Smugsy’s feet stuck to the floor. Everyone around her was dumb like Mike.
When she was down the street a block or so from the party on her way home, Smugsy heard Mike shouting after her, “Wait! Come back! Get back here! Come on!” And he started to run.
Smugsy had never been chased like this before. She ran as fast as she could and heard Mike running faster, gaining ground.
“Please God, make him trip and crack his numbskull open,” Smugsy prayed as she rounded the corner onto Union Street, feet smacking in a full-on sprint.
Mike was dumb but he was very fast, and from the tone of his shouting Smugsy knew he wasn’t kidding.
Smugsy reached the big green house and bolted up the porch steps, scrambled with her keys, burst through the door and locked it behind her as quickly as she could. As she turned the deadbolt of the heavy wooden door she heard Mike bounding up the stairs.
For several minutes dumb Mike beat on the door with his fists, growling and snorting like a wild animal.
Getting away from the man in the car and from dumb Mike taught Smugsy two very important lessons.
Go berserk when there is nothing to lose, and run fast.