A little over 8 years ago, a friend of mine, L (name redacted) was hit by her scum-bucket boyfriend. It wasn’t the first time he’d hit her, but it was the first time he’d hit her in front of her best friend J. (name also redacted.) J objected to the abuse, you might say she objected violently to the abuse (which is one of the reasons why the names are redacted even if the statute of limitations should be up.)
After scum-bucket had fled the scene, J decided that L needed some more support, so she called every women she knew. Everyone available showed up to L’s apartment with weapons and booze. Imagine if you will, around 30 women stuffed into a one-bedroom apartment comforting L and passing around the drinks when someone spots scum-bucket’s car pulling into the parking lot.
It was decided that a few ladies would stay in the apartment with L while the rest of us when downstairs to confront scum-bucket and prevent him from entering the building.
Now all of us ladies at that time happened to belong to the same theater group that specialized in swashbuckling plays, lots of sword fights and the like. So, when I say we brought weapons, I mean we brought things like broadswords, battleaxes, crossbows, rapiers and like.
So, scum-bucket gets out of his car and starts walking across the parking lot only to spot 25 or so heavily armed women marching out of the building, raising their weapons and charging at him while screeching like furies.
Scum-bucket had a pretty good sense of self-preservation and the sight of us was inspiring. He ran back to the car and peeled out of the parking light like the hounds of hell were at his heels and I suppose we were.
Anyhow, L never heard from him again. Eventually, she and J started dating and they’ll have been married for 5 years next September.
It is called karma.
