Love On The Rocks – Broadway Edition
Grab your pipin’ hot coffee kids, and settle down. We’re diving into a fresh chapter from the ‘This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things’ headline today. This story is about as cliche as a bad romantic comedy but without the feel-good ending. Our scene, Broadway Ave., a street so ordinary it makes vanilla seem like a wild flavor choice.
So, our lady-love is cruisin’ down the avenue with her ex-flame. Why? Because some people can’t get enough of the “been there, done that, don’t do it again” ride. But let’s put a pin in that bit and direct our attention to Mr. Ex-boyfriend, our hero and villain, all rolled into one.
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Fed up with conversation, he decides to communicate using the universal language of stupidity – punches, right there in a moving vehicle. I’m telling ya, kids, love’s got more swerves than a drunken slalom skier.
Now, fast forward to ‘Lady Unlucky’ found by the cops, sporting a nice little reminder of heartbreak courtesy of Mr. Love’s Left Hook. Feeling generous, she refuses to press charges. Karma watches and chuckles, thinking, “Hold my beer.”
Meanwhile, Mr. Romeo-Raging-Bull decides to traipse into a police station, fresh from his pummeling performance just to declare, “Hey, I’ve been injured.” You can’t make this kind of dumb up. The cops, defying all odds, actually investigate and, shocker, brand him the aggressor.
Both are given a stern “Go to your corners” and left to lick their metaphorical wounds. Whether they can stay away longer than two people in a tic-tac-toe match is anyone’s guess.
Yet another instance of cupid’s misguided arrows on Broadway Ave. Better luck next time, kids! Remember, love is a battlefield…and apparently so are moving cars.
This love-lost tale is brought to you by the ‘Sleepless on Broadway’ blotter notes, reminding you all to keep your dumb domestic disputes off our streets. This has been another installment of ‘SpillByBill: Democracy dies in dumbness’. Stay safe, stay smart, people… or at least, try to.
Written By:
William Thomas
This isn’t rage—it’s truth with the volume turned up.
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