Spitting a toothpick from out of his mouth, the fellow smiled insolently from behind his cheap pseudo-Mafioso sunglasses. He was about to say something . . . but was saved the trouble as Mrs. Whitely came from behind and clocked him.
With a curt nod of vengeance at the unconscious lout, she cried, amidst a chorus of cheers, ‘There! If you had spent more time reading your Oxford’s, you wouldn’t be here now, getting nutted with it!’