The last place someone like me (a rage-filled, man-hating shrew) needed to be was the town piss-scented police station, but there I was, getting my fingerprints taken for the third time this year because the powers that be at the Department of Defense judged me unworthy of current security status, and I have a new job and have to go through the rigamarole again, don't you know.
I was minding my own business, paying my fee, as some crackhead detoxed down the hall ("I need a bologna sandwich, fuck, that's all!") and a woman sobbed in the chair next to me.
He: you should have known better. What were you thinking? If I hadn't gotten there...
She: I'm so sorry, I know, I love you, I..I....(her words trailed off into snot-muffled sobs so I couldn't tell exactly what else she was saying, plus I was trying very hard not to eavesdrop. As if).
He: well, I guess you didn't try hard enough, and I can't even touch you because I'll contaminate the evidence and what were you thinking?
The man continued to nag and berate his too-young-looking girlfriend until the receptionist finally butted in, "Shut the hell up and stop discussing the case. Can't you just show a little compassion? Jeez."
Joy to the World.