Anger and Spray Paint

In a time long ago, and a land far away, there was a sweet young maiden with a wonderful friend “Yuleleea”. Ok, I wasn't all that long ago, and it was only in the Chicken Coop, Wilkes Barre, and sweet, young, and maiden may not be an accurate description of yours truly, but the wonderful friend part holds true even after she kicked me violently out of her car and might have made me tinkle in my pants a little.
Edit:
A few years ago, Yuleleea and I were at the Chicken Coop getting our Friday night fun on. At this point, we had made a number of friends because it got to a point they may as well have labeled our bar stools Cinderella and Anastasia: Reserved: Friday's 6:00pm till close. For some reason my friend was determined to hook me up with this sweet boy who I thought of as the sweet boy because he LOOKED LIKE A BOY! A young boy. So young in fact that even though I knew he was in a bar drinking, I carded him myself at one point so that I could reassure myself I wasn't heading to the slammer for corrupting a minor by participating in the consumption of anything stronger than a Shirley Temple with him. Said boy was of age, and in fact only a couple of years younger than I was. But, that thought was there and I couldn't get it out of my head and it creeped me out any time he tried to hit on me. But he was nice. We got along. And he had a crazy woman head over heels in love with him who worked at the horse track and used to come into the bar smelling like she spent the day rolling around in horse shit, and washing her hair in urine. When I look back, I can't blame him for being so desperate to stay even closer to me when she was around.
Stinky horse lady took an immediate, intense hatred to me, I assume either because my sparkling personality was absolutely blinding, or her crazy adoration for Sweet Young Boy turned to bright red hatred for me because he was giving me the attention she so craved. Personally, I always thought she looked as if one of the horses just rejected her, so maybe she needed a Friday night don't reject me fix and never got it. Whatever it was, she made sure that e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e in the bar, myself included, knew exactly what she thought of me. She didn't think many good things. I usually ignored her because it really wasn't worth having a stroke over some guy who I considered a friend. There was one night in particular though that I started to feel incredibly nasty about it. I'm not sure if it was because I was sick of my throat closing up and throwing fits like an addict with his fix just out of reach when I would force it to open so I wouldn't pass out from oxygen deprivation every time she walked in the place, or if I just have limited tolerance for smelly woman with silly anger issues. I'd bet on the combination of the two. So, I decided to be an ass: every time she'd look my way, I'd smile big, or blow her a kiss, or wink...but her breaking point was when I gave him a hug and licked my lips while I looked her way. She had a minor temper tantrum and left the bar.
Our night out continued much like it usually did, we had a great time, but for a reason that I can't remember I had to leave early. I said my goodnights, Yuleleea decided to stay out for a bit longer, and I left.
As I approached my car though, the night took a horrible turn for the worse. Before I was even to my car, I saw black on my car—a big round spot with a trail falling down from it on my drivers side door. I lost my ever joyful composure and started screaming like a lunatic in the parking lot! The bitch spray painted my car! I stormed back into the bar and yelled across at everyone, “THAT BITCH SPRAYPAINTED MY CAR!” Yuleleea, Sweet Young Boy, the bar owner and approximately 8 or 9 of our friends came out, first to cool me down, second to see my car. Yuleleea went crazy again—not about theater lighting this time, but she wanted to know where the bitch lived, she had a plan to beat her into cleaning my car until no trace of spray paint remained. (She might have a temper, but she's damned loyal to her friends ;).)
While Sweet Young Boy was trying to keep us both calm, some of the others were walking around making sure their car, or other cars, hadn't been painted. For some reason, Yuleleea walked away and the path she chose was between my drivers side and the passengers side of the car next to me. I noticed that when she went by the spray paint, it disappeared. I cocked my head much like a confused puppy and walked over and rubbed my fingers over the spray paint. Suddenly the spray paint took on a form much like my fingers poking at a balloon on a string. I looked back at the car parked next to me and realized that on their antenna was one of those ridiculous decorative balls some people seem to like. I became completely unhinged and started laughing hysterically...slid down the side of the car until I was sitting in the parking lot, crying from laughing so hard, trying to tell the other ten people all wound up about the spray paint that it was only a shadow. Only, it was coming out something something like, “it gasp, gasp, gasp doooooooooowwwwwwww hahahahhaa.” It took a few attempts, but dear Yuleleea finally figured out I was saying shadow. She in turn lost it. Not quite as bad as did I, because she was at least understandable as she translated what I had been trying to say.
Honestly, you would have thought everyone had just found out that Santa wasn't real. The owner almost seemed giddy that he was going to have a reason to kick her out, the mechanic in love with Yuleleea had been ready to provide her a tire iron to get even with Stinky Horse Woman, and Sweet Young Boy was sure this was his 'in' with me. I finally pulled myself together and apologized to everyone for getting so excited and in turn thanked them all for not realizing it was spray paint as well. Deflated, they all headed back into the bar, I got into my un-spraypainted car, and drove home.
The morals of this story? Don't freak out and drop a person just because she kicks you out of her car the first time you go out together because she may well prove to be one of your greatest defenders. And don't blow kisses to Smelly Horse Women. It fucks with your head.