Number 33 to the rescue

I was walking, as I often do when I need to get somewhere, and I was crossing a street, as I often do when I need to get somewhere which is on the other side of me than a street, and I looked both ways, as I often do before crossing the street on the other side of which is somewhere I need to get, and no cars were coming, as they often aren't at 3:45 in the morning, which is when I was walking across the street to get somewhere I needed to go which was on the opposite side of the street, and I began crossing the street, as I often will when my endgoal is being on the other side of the street in order to get somewhere which is not on the same side of the street as me, and I stopped in the middle, as I often do because I am borderline mentally handicapped and us "Borders" are prone to sudden and inexplicable lapses in brain-to-rest-of-body communication, and suddenly...

WHOOSH!!

Not a car, suckapants. A LOVE THAT'S BLIND.

Comes racin' down the street like a bat outta mutha fuckin' Cleveland, and is bearing down on me, and I'm having trouble remembering how to make my legs go, and it's coming, and I'm standing, and I remember that line from John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band's classic hit On the Dark Side. You know, "Ain't nothin' gonna save you from a love that's blind?"

Well, how the hell did I know that a fucking love that's blind was going to try to run my ass over? Hm?

So anyway, there I am, retarded, and there's the love that's blind, bearing down on me, about to turn me into popsicle sticks and eat my fright-induced poops for breakfast, when...

WHOOSH!!

Larry mother fucking Bird.

Yes, Larry mother fucking Bird, star of Indiana college basketball, runs across the street, at breakneck speed, picks me up, and deposits me safely on the other side, WHILE tossing some delicious Hostess Fruit Pies to the love that's blind, thereby successfully distracting it until the authorities come.

So what does Larry mother fucking Bird say to me? "All in a day's work, ma'am?" "Just doin' my job?"

No, asshole hands me a bill for $49.50. And his dry cleaning. And says "nothin' is real."