The Righteous Ride of Gallopin' Gallo / Part Three
Gallo was enjoyin' the last of the scoot's engine warmth. He was layin' on his oilskin tarp in a concrete gully next to the road. He and his bike were out of sight of any passing police types. Figured it was about one a.m. when the pickup nailed its brakes and skidded off the road onto the gravel shoulder, shovin' some of it down into the culvert.
"Well, at least none of it hit the bike," he thought. Then he heard the guy yellin'. "None of my business," he thought. Then the unmistakable sound of someone being bitch slapped. "Not my affair," he thought. Then she started screamin'. "Well, I ain't gonna get no sleep this way," he thought.
He got up, walked around the back of the bike, up the slope, around the back of the pickup (hey look, a tire iron in the bed, that'll do) and rapped the yellin', slappin' asshole once on the back of the head.
He looked at the chick. She was lookin' down at her tits. Smart chick.
Gallo went back to his bike, chucked the tire iron into the dark, dropped his tarp into a saddlebag and rode on out of there.
Like anyone else, he was kinda irritable when his rest was interuppted.