Friday Night's Alright for Fighting

I've been having violent dreams lately. I woke up with blood on my face. Peter and I were sitting outside Deluxe yelling at all the lame boy racers going around and around and around. Finally one of them pulled over and tried to start something. Three of them jumped on Peter as another car pulled up. I was a little slow to react but when I did I was at least a distraction for the guys who couldn't reach him. There were four or five of them by now. I took a hail of fists in the head from all sides at once. I told them we were just trying to suggest that they could drive more safely. They told me I couldn't suggest shit. Well, evidently I could. I shot my hand out and grabbed one of them by the throat, "Why did you [jolly] hit me in the head!?" I swung wide, hard and fast and connected with his right cheek bone. "You are a [flipping] embarassment! Get back in your car and go do your laps, [you silly]." By this stage, Peter had sorted himself too, and they all retreated back to their screaming rota-hoes.

We sat there, bloody, and watched them do another couple of laps.