| | When I attended college at Rutgers, I lived in an off-campus apartment next door to an undergraduate student who had transferred from California. His first words to me were that he was from California and that his father was a lawyer. At the time I was working the night shift at Dennys. When I got home, his favorite parking spot on the street was usually empty as he had an early class, and I regularly parked there. I got pink notes written in purple in with frilly handwriting and i's dotted with circles advising me that this spot on a public street was his private spot, and his father was a lawyer. The people below me smoked marijuana, about which he complained incessantly, because he could smell it. When he finally determined that it was my car taking up his spot, he began throwing rocks at my window after I had gone to sleep and he had returned from class. I told him to bug off, not to throw rocks or wake me, and that the space was first come-first serve, and that there were always other spots available on the street or even behind his apartment, but he didn't want to harm the grass.
After sufficient warning, I urinated in a large milkshake tin and the next time he threw a rock at my window, I emptied the contents on his head. Not only was I not sued, I never heard from him again.
There are few circumstances in life where this strategem works, but it was most satisfying, at least after he stopped shrieking and finally disappeared from my life.
Ted
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