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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
wigger hitting on me!
What happened: so me and my friend marnie are at the mall. we like going in the elavator and just staying in there and meeting all kinds of people and such, so we were doing our usual elevator ride when a group of "wiggers" walked in.
on of them came over and stood next to me silently. finally he said "so, you girls cocme here often?" after i reluctantly said yes, he asked, "so, you got a name?"
What I said: nope.
What I SHOULD have said: my names lexi, and this is my girlfriend marnie.
The French call it l'esprit d'escalier, "the wit of the staircase," those biting ripostes that are thought of just seconds too late, on the way out of the room-or even, to tell the truth, days later. It's happened to you: you've suddenly thought of just what would put your foe in his or her place, but past the time when the arrow could sting its victim. You've stewed in your own juice ever since, and the chance for singeing repartee is gone forever.
Or is it?
Dorothy Parker or Oscar Wilde may have had the rapier wit to tweak their tormentors on the spot, but for the rest of us, we offer the Internet's only L'esprit d'escalier web site!