Notorious man-about-town Young Geoffrey's day ended in near-tragedy this afternoon, following a harrowing day in the Web Networks Command Centre.
"I find it difficult to believe I controlled myself," a shaken Mr. Geoffrey said. "The urge to exact vengeance was strong in this one." Lighting a cigarette with shaking hands on the windswept corner as a patter of rain fell into the dank streets, he continued, "You read about it in the paper; you hear stories whispered in dark bars late at night; but you never think it will happen to you!"
Mr. Geoffrey fought back a sob. "I guess I'll have to take the streetcar," he muttered. "It's that or just rip off my fender. And maybe kick in a few of the bastard's spokes."
Gasps arose from the onlookers surrounding the tragedy, but Mr. Geoffrey visibly gathered up his fallen aplomb and assured the gawkers, "I'm kidding," he said, "I'm kidding. Two tragedies don't make a comedy."
Rare in a city of Toronto's side, the shattering effects of some careless knob locking his (or her) bike to yours, trapping it like a an unfortunate seal on an ice-floe off Newfoundland, only those who have experienced the pain can truly understand its devastating effects.
As Mr. Geoffrey finally gave up hope the culprit would turn up any time soon, he turned and prepared to start north, towards Queen Street and the dreaded streetcar. As he did so, a figure darted from the crowd and pressed a business-card upon him.
"Fuck off!" Mr. Geoffrey snarled.
"I'm a grief-counsellor!" the matter replied. "Call me!"
"I said, 'fuck off'! Mr. Geoffrey replied.
But this reporter noted that he pocketed the card - and hopes this means the healing process will soon begin.