Sometimes, the insult demon cannot be contained.

Someone ran into me and I did what I always do: I said, “Sorry.”

He snapped back something angry.

I politely replied, “We all mistakes. Have a good one.”

I foolishly thought that was the end of it. I did everything right.

The universe had other plans. It was obvious he needed to infect someone else with his anger at the world.

“Well, you look like you make an awful lot of mistakes.” He said it was that particular kind of verbal venom that characterizes someone consumed by an unhappy life.

Even while I recognized this, my quick wit overpowered me, and these words came out: “Me and your mom, evidently.”

The even angrier words he followed up with bounced off my back as I walked away.

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