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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
Which side of the road?
What happened: I was driving along in my neighborhood, minding my own business, maybe doing about 35 in a 25 zone when a piece of crap Olds Cutlass pulls over onto the wrong side of the road in front of me. I stop, and they pull alongside of me and open the window. Thinking they need directions, I open my window. Then the fossil in the driver seat asks me why I'm driving so fast. I say, "why are you driving on the wrong side of the road?" He says, "I had to, to slow YOU down."
What I said: "What???" - incredulously and at a loss for words at his stupidity.
What I SHOULD have said: "I wouldn't have to drive any slower if senile old farts could tell their right from their left."
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!