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♢♦♢ I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING ♢♦♢
The Gang A' Harleys casually stroll through a massive shopping mall in Port Angeles. They are in search for a restaurant for Harley to eat at. Shopping bags of all shapes and sizes hang from their equally pale arms and shoulders as they walk hand-in-hand. Alice walks on the right, Rosalie on the left and Harley in the center. They conversate with one another, discussing which store they should head into next.
A fancy restaurant catches Harley's attention. She opens her mouth to tell her friends about her discovery when suddenly, she hears someone mutter something behind her.
"Hmph. That is one tasty ass," a man says to himself, referring to Rosalie's behind.
Hearing this, the three girls freeze in their spots.
Harley is already at it before Rosalie can respond to the lustful man. In the blink of an eye, she is spinning around and narrowing her eyes at the middle-aged man, who wears a green shirt, khaki pants and slippers. He holds onto a boxed metal detector and stands several inches above her, his eyes squinted and perverted. She unhooks her hands from her friends' and drops her bags, angrily marching toward him. Her hands find her waist as she leans in to examine him. "Excuse me. Did you just make an assertion about my friend's ass," she asks him, standing too close for his comfort.
The man looks momentarily shocked. It seems as though he's never been called out. "Huh? What?"
"Her ass! Did you just say she had a tasty ass," Harley repeats herself, angrily tapping her foot.
Rosalie and Alice now stand at her sides. 'The Lady of Fashion,' as Harley nicknamed Alice, places a comforting hand on her shoulder, while her sister glares at the man's sweaty forehead. The two immortal sisters don't bother to pull Harley away, knowing there's no chance in removing her from the situation.
The man's eyes nervously shift from Rosalie to Harley. "Uhh.. Maybe?"
Harley's pearly whites grit together as she leans in, practically breathing on his face. "Where is yer filter, mister? What makes you so sure her ass is tasty? How d'ya know she hasn't been sittin' in a pile a' garbage fer the past hour? Maybe she fergot ta wipe this mornin'," she exclaims. Noticeably angry, she harshly points to his chest, digging her oval shaped fingernail into his skin. "An' maybe she's embarrassed about the whole wipey thing. D'ya find it acceptable behavior ta mouth off on somethin' she might be a little insecure about?"
People nearby begin to point and stare, speaking in hushed whispers.
Alice notices this, so she gently tugs at Harley's arm, but Harley's not budging. Completely unbothered, her friend gets on her knees and turns Rosalie around, wiggling her behind. "Okay, look, I know she has a great ass. Hell, she could probably crack a coconut between her buns a' steel if she really wanted to," she exclaims. Slightly embarrassed, Rosalie steps back and so Harley stands, pointing to her friend's white skinny jeans. ".. And yes, I know her outfit accents how truly spectacular her whoopee cakes are.. But what makes ya think it's okay ta comment out loud ta the whole world about yer review of 'em? How would'ya like it if I told the world yer eyebrows look like two caterpillars gettin' ready ta mate," she continues to scold him. "That yer about eighty pounds overweight an' probably have to stand on a mirror to see yer pathetic lincoln memorial? That ya dress like ya picked through the skid row garbage bins? Y'get where I'm goin' with this? This is the outside world, not the television in yer livin' room or the computer in yer bedroom. Y'don't just blab out whatcher thinkin' without considerin' the other person an' how it might make 'em feel."
