A half hour ago, or 8:00 a.m. in the ghetto, at Cheap Eats Is Us, Miss Ezz was stepping outside on her coffee break when she heard two gay black men “having a domestic altercation.”

Both of these men were of the flaming variety. It is unknown what the argument was about, but one of the men walked away from the other, around the side of the building, past the delivery door. The other scorned fellow then, “jumped into his Honda—a two-door” and gave chase, first cornering the other up against the delivery door and then, when he refused to comply with whatever was being demanded, pinned his legs to the wall with the bumper.

Screams of compliance followed, so that the driver eased off the gas and let his boyfriend loose, who then had the bad idea of running away across open ground, only to be taken down by that speeding Honda.

The running Dindu went down.

The driving Dindu hung around.

The cops came.

The medics came.

The firemen came.

The paddy wagon came.

And, as I received this ghetto grocer update, I was told, “the flat bed is here” putting that Negro-squishing Honda where it can do no harm.