On one of my many business trips I'd stopped at a grocery store somewhere for lunch. This was during my rare period of trying to eat healthy, so I went into the store to buy fruit and vegetables rather than fast food. When leaving the store an elegantly dressed woman walked towards her car about sixty feet in front of me. Before she reached her car four young guys pulled into the parking lot in a nice 60's vintage convertible muscle car. Rather than use the doors all four jumped out of the car, whooping and shouting as they walked towards the store. They were animated about something. When they reached this woman they circled her like a pack of hungry wolves. She turned to ward one off and I saw she was about forty and very pretty.
Being the white knight my wife expects me to be I jogged to catch up to the woman and chase away her tormentors. The guys saw me coming and backed off leaving the woman alone, then walked past me into the store. The woman never realized my part in what had happened, only that the guys had left her alone.
Before the four disappeared into the store they shouted a parting insult at her, which she ignored with a great deal of class.
I sat in my car and drank deep from a cold bottle of Gatorade I'd just bought. While I drank I looked at the beautiful muscle car. I was still upset with the guys over their behavior, so an idea formed. I drank a great deal of Gatorade while I drove, and I drove a lot. Since I was always in the car alone I had developed the habit of relieving myself in the empty Gatorade bottle so I wouldn't have to stop so often. To prevent me from drinking from the wrong bottle, I always laid those "dirty" bottles in the back floorboard behind the passenger seat. I looked back there and saw two such quart bottles. One was from earlier in the day, but the other was a day old. I knew from a bad experience that the day old one really stank.
Thinking about the way those guys had treated that woman I grabbed both bottles and walked over to that beautiful classic car. I poured the first quart bottle of urine on the driver's seat. The second, which I knew was the day old one when I removed the lid, I poured on the drivers seat back. Meaning the place where the driver would place his back when he sat in the car.
I went back to my car and settled in to wait. After a minute I realized I was parked too close to the deed, so I moved my car over a few rows. They returned five minutes later. To my surprise they were still talking inappropriately about the woman, and they were talking so loud I could hear them clearly. For some reason they were fixated on her. When they reached their car they got in the same way they got out, by jumping over the side without using the doors. The driver landed in his seat, made a move to put the key in the ignition then stopped. He leaned forward then jumped back out of the car ripping his shirt off, followed by his paints. He started screaming, "That bitch," which he repeated over and over until it changed to, "That stinking bitch." What what really made me lose it was when he said, "She squatted in my seat and peed." It had not occurred to me that the guy would think the woman did this. The image of that elegant woman peeing on his seat sent me into hysterical laughter. I had to lay across the seats so they wouldn't see me laughing.
Not sure it this story does the event justice, but it was hilarious.