Babe, you should have seen me today.  It was really something.  I got into a fist fight with some, some—some real nobody, baby. So he goes—You know, I pity him, really—Well, he goes, You got beef?  And I didn't have any so I said No. Then he goes, What?  So I said, What?  And he goes What, Bitch! Oh, that got me steaming.  So I go, What, Bitch!  Then he pushed me, the villain.  So I tell him, you know, Don't push me; push a Push-Pop. Then he pushed me again, so I slugged him, babe.  I slugged him real good, but I missed.  He got a few shots in, then I punched him again but this time I didn't hit him,  and he got a few more shots in.  I was really going to let him have it.  I wound my arm real good—I mean, he'd never want to go to another baseball game again—but then, that, that bozo, he suckerpunched me!  I thought I was going to kill him, my love. I thought they were going scrap his bozo brains off the concrete and charge me with not even murder, but manslaughter.  If he had stuck around for my last punch he would be a goner, but luckilly that coward had run away by the time I got to my feet.