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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
What happened: I live in a super small town, so when I got the chance to go to a big mall with my friend, we went all out. We dressed up super trendy and spent a long time to look great. At the mall, my friend went in to Sam Goody's to buy a CD. We were minding our own business and some greasy gothic-y kids walked in. Well, one of them walked up, looked at us like we were idiots, and said "WOW, where do you BREED??"
What I said: nothing
What I SHOULD have said: Wow, where do you keep your coffin?
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!