"Taking the piss out of him wasn't such a good idea, was it?" I said.
"He would've done it anyway. Guys like that, they're looking for a fight —— and I just happened to be there, wearing the wrong skin colour and a silly hat."
"Yeah, but ——"
"Gloria, it's what I do. He has his fists and feet, I have my words —— my devastating wit and, frankly, genius-level intelligence. And you know what? In those few seconds before he hit me, I really, really enjoyed showing him how stupid he was."
"Can I say 'yeah, but' again?"
"No, you can't. And my final point is, my injuries will heal —— but he's going to remain a stupid, violent, racist bastard for the rest of his life." One or two passers-by glanced at him. Uman pressed the tissue against his nose, which had sprung a fresh leak. He held the tissue for me to see. "Look, the bloodstains have formed the exact pattern of the Indonesian archipelago."
Twenty Questions for Gloria, p235
Martin Bedford
ISBN 978-1-4063-6353-1
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