The woman from the car behind him must have gotten over her shock, because she was standing beside his car, cell phone in hand.
"How could you do that to my husband?!" she screamed. "I'm calling the cops!"
Bass rolled down his window. "Look, lady, he started it with the crowbar!" he protested.
"What crowbar?" asked the woman.
"The one right --" Bass looked over at her husband, who was getting up from where he'd landed among the trash cans, slowly and with a pained expression on his face. He wasn't holding the crowbar.
"There's no crowbar," said the woman, "and anyway, it's our word against yours. My husband just wanted to tell you you had a taillight out, and you attacked him for no reason."
"Come on, what'd you do with it?" Bass demanded. He never would have acted like this before, but there seemed to be something about this new, larger, more muscular body he now possessed. He caught a glimpse of some motion in the rearview mirror and turned his head around. One of the kids -- actually, she was a teenage girl -- was standing between the two cars, looking slightly sheepish.
"Did she just pick it up and hide it or something?" Bass asked the woman, finally deciding to get back out of the car.
"Don't touch me, or you'll be in even worse trouble," warned the woman as he emerged and stood next to the door.
"I want that crowbar!" bellowed Bass, in a surprisingly deep voice.
With that, the crowbar flew up out of the sewer grate it had just been deposited into, whizzing past the surprised daughter, and into the hand of an equally surprised Bass.
"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the woman, and she raised her cell phone with a trembling hand, as if to finally dial the police.
"You can't call the police!" Bass exclaimed...