The most annoying man in the world

A short story, based on my evening in the library:

The most annoying man in the world occupies the table next to me.
Around dinner time, he plopped down at the table and invaded J's personal space.
He reeks of cigarette smoke and body odor
He is wearing a loud orange shirt
Even louder are his cell phone conversations
Louder than that, surprisingly, are his conversations with his friend, who has joined him at the table after ousting J.
The library, being a library, is quiet as a tomb, with the pitter patter of typing echoing from nearby cubicles at regular intervals.
There is no need for the most annoying man in the world to speak in not only a normal volume, but in a volume that might be considered loud for Yankee Stadium.
J got up to leave and whispered to me while the most annoying man in the world was talking to his tablemate about elementary matters of covenants and easements. I decided that I too would talk in a normal volume. When J was shocked and scared by my volume, I said, "evidently we are talking in a normal volume in this corner of the library."
People stood up and looked over the walls of neighboring cubicles.
The most annoying man in the world has a following.
And after a moment of detente, and with it, sweet, blissful silence, the most annoying man in the world struck again.
The most annoying man in the world stood up and said to his friend, in his best attempt at emulating a stage whisper, "Don't let these chicks steal my computer."
I glared at him, straight at him.
I said to him,
"It's not wise to call two women who are about four months shy of becoming attorneys 'chicks'."
He made a sorry attempt at apologizing. "I was joking."
"And you're bordering on sexual harassment" I replied. "You don't know us. Don't call us chicks."
An overreaction, perhaps. But I was pushed over the edge by the most annoying man in the world.