To The Rescue!

We’re settling down for dinner at the bar of this neighborhood restaurant. That’s code for, “We may or may not take to your kind ’round here.” At one of these establishments some time ago someone told me it was a ‘local’ place.

No shit, fucktard. Every place is a local place when you’re standing in it.

This place was so ‘hood it didn’t seem to take kindly to their own kind. Don’t get me wrong, that’s a plus to me. Neighborhood joints that are too inviting are annoying. The main problem with them is the person who starts talking to you is the one who’s annoyed every regular in the place so can’t wait for new meat to sacrifice.

We were at a place and four of us were sitting at the bar. Two people, an empty seat, two people. Just like the good lord decreed. We’d been having polite, fun conversation. Nothing heady, nothing taxing.

Suddenly, the fun screeches to a halt. Have you ever heard an explosion form sentences? That’s what was entering the establishment. That’s bad enough. It gets worse when he breaks the lords rule and sits between me and the other guy.

Why not stick you’re hands up our asses? We’re probably both due for a tune-up.

It didn’t take long for the others to retreat. The other examination patient whispered on the way out that he’d seen him there before. I knew that was a clue to screw but there was one problem. My sweetheart wasn’t quite done with her adult beverage. Okay, not a big deal. I have years of experience ignoring people. It’s one of my skills.

One I leave off the resume though. I’d rather them find that out on their own.

He’s barking about whatever’s on TV. I can feel the heat of his words pinging off my pate. I remain steadfast. He tries again. You can not sway me, Mr. Opinionated Fuckwad! I care not for your kind or, for that matter, your breath.

I would have offered him a mint from the reception desk but that would only cause interaction. I’m too smart for the old roadkill breath trick.

Because blowhard cannot exist in a vacuum , the assault dwindles. He orders food. Food comes. We’re still fucking there! Holy fuck! This place is either the fastest restaurant in the known world or my beloved is lingering. Yep, that’s the case.

Fuck it! Another beer I do order.

He’s eating. He’s talking. He’s trying, with all his best move, I assure you, to engage me.

To the point of, when he takes a fork-filled morsel to his mouth, he does so with his elbow in my side. Remember, by now there are many other seats around this bar. If I’m crowding him he can move.

Another ploy I’ve seen before! The old ‘you may be able to ignore my screaming directly into your ear hole but no one escapes the purposefully accidental nudge to the ribs.’ NO ONE can ignore that!

I take public transportation. He’s not even rush hour invasive.

The funny thing is, without an audience, without a bartender to occupy (who, I admit, did make himself busy ‘stocking’ the bar with items from the furthest reaches of the basement), he went grunting into that good bye you fucking obnoxious asshole night.

At the place I was talking about at the beginning of the story, we had none of that. It was thirty seats, twenty-seven people staring straight ahead. Why the discrepancy you ask? Because one guy was annoying the fuck out of this cringing couple.

I could tell the guy was a regular. Oh, you may be thinking, he sure has a high-esteem of his deductive reasoning. Well, yeah, you’d be right but, in this case it didn’t even take my highly honed skills.

He was wearing a shirt with the places name on it.

I look around and watch the other people make furtive glances and sideways smirks at each other. I understand. They’ve all suffered this dolt so are happy to have someone else the brunt of the action. It’s like being an abused kid. After awhile you don’t really mind when your brother gets a turn.

But it was bugging me. I saw the nice couple had no skills to repel such a rebarbative fellow. I got up and walked around the bar. It was on the way to the bathroom so it had the air of normalcy.

I reach the trio and, as I attempted to squeeze past the man, said to the group,

“Hey,” I look directly at the now fully stricken couple. “Anyone like impressions?” I look at the guy then back to the couple. “It’s a good one and it’ll only take a second.”

They all turn to me, I look at the couple.

“My impression,” I turn and look dead straight into the bothersome gents eyes. “Is that these people want you to shut the fuck up!”

You know something? I was right about that couple. They were very nice. They bought us a round.


5 responses to “To The Rescue!

  1. Doh !!!!!!!!!!!!!

  2. somedays it must be fun to be you

  3. The Zell version of Good Will Hunting’s ‘How you like them apples’ gag…

  4. Calling the elephant in the room, an elephant — what a concept. Well done.

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