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11 or 12 June, 2007,

Two days later

"Thanks, Stephen," I said as we passed on the way. "I'll chase them the rest of the way out."

On Monday or Tuesday, I was coming back toward home, walking up "Smoker's Lane," between the old city wall and Market Cross Shopping Centre — and watching three lads who were paying too much attention to me.

Two sat upon the stoop of the mosoleum, and one upon the electrical box at ground level. The fellow on the electrical box was making odd movements and looking dodgy. As I approached him, I said "what are you doing" — forcefully — and I scared him. "Nothing," he said.

As I passed, looking him dead in the eye, I saw peripherally that he had brought out his dick. No lie — he had his minuscule todger sticking out of his trousers, obviously in some attempt at taunting me.

I didn't say anything — not really consciously noticing the pinkie-sized fact that he'd exposed his penis to me.

Later, I had imaginary scenes based on the fact that I'd had a chance to kick him in the head, or slap him off his perch — but I figure I'll bring this back to haunt him in some other way.