You'd think given my career choices, I'd be used to backstabbers by now.

First and foremost, let me tell you guys to NOT call me about this. I won't be able to get a new phone until tomorrow. Just know that I'm fine, and my jaw and my back is a little sore, but it's nothing a little Advil and Neosporin can't handle. My mood, on the other hand is to be expected after being stabbed.

Yes, I fucking said STABBED.

I was on my way down Memorial after open mic night at the Loony Bin. I was coming up on the Steak and Shake when I saw a group of teenagers running across the street. I blew my horn at them, as a few of them were getting ready to dart in front of my car. As I passed, one of them threw their drink at me.

THUD! SCREECH! I slammed my brakes and got out of my car. I yelled at them, demanding to know who threw their shit at my car. All but three of them ran off. The ones that stayed behind came up to me, ready for a fight.

The first one said something along the lines of "C'mon motherfucker!" (or something just as eloquent). A second moved to my right side. The first guy kicked me in the leg with about as much force as a stiff breeze. Seriously, this kick couldn't have broken balsa wood.

I turned my head to look at the second guy trying to flank me. As I turned my head, he clocked me on the left side of my jaw. I think he was aiming for my nose, but missed. Didn't really ring my bell so much as it just knocked me off balance. But it was enough to let me know they meant business.

That's when the third guy pulled something out of his pocket. I believe my response was "Is that a fucking screwdriver? Seriously?" Let it be known that I am a pacifist, but I've also got a pretty big fucking mouth because this guy started to charge at me with it. So, I naturally ran back to my car. Sure, what this thug lacked in subtlety, he sure as hell made up for it in his purchase at Home Depot.

On the way back to my car, in hindsight, I dropped my phone. Oh, and I also felt a blow to the middle of my back. I thought one of the little fuckers had punched me, but after driving off, the second car to flag me down pointed out other wise.

The first car told me that they saw the whole thing, and that they'd testify if needed. I felt fine, just pumping adrenalin and I told them that it wouldn't be necessary. The second car said the same thing, but added the phrase, "No, dude. That guy fucking stabbed you!"

Signaling them over to the Walgreen's parking lot, I asked them to look at my back. Tiny hole, no bleeding. The cops arrived, took my statement. The paramedics arrived, checked me out, and told me it wasn't bad. Barely broke the skin. Not even worthy of a trip to the hospital or even a bandage. But in legal terms, that was still assault with a deadly weapon.

The witnesses told me (and the cops) that one of the bad guys picked up my phone. So, add theft to the mix. I told the cops to throw in a jaywalking charge and destruction of property while they're at it.

So, I went about my evening with a really fucked up story for the guys at the bar. The irony is, the cops said they'll call me if anything turns up. Hopefully, it'll be after I get my new phone turned on.

Like I said, I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I don't know if that little fucker didn't have that great of upper body strength or maybe a poor choice in weaponry, but the damage was merely a flesh wound. Personally, I attribute the lack of real damage to the fact that I've never had a back massage in my entire life, and 32 years of tension built up a knot strong enough to deflect a flathead screwdriver tip.

But enough about me, how was your night?