. . .many of my friends are wise mouthed assholes.
No, really, they are. And to prove it here’s a situation.
I’m sitting there talking to a woman who suffers fools but only for the money. If you come at her with a stupid stick when shes not getting paid someone is going to get rabies.
This guy who fancies himself quite a catch. That’s why the fact that he’s rarely caught shows just how deluded he is about his general countenance.
“Hey,” he opens to crickets. “Who’s your friend?”
“No one who wants to talk to you.” I say trying to save his life. At least it seems like that. But he doesn’t believe me and continues.
“So, what do you do?”
She stares at him. Then she looks at me and rolls her eyes. I could make him go away. I could end this. But why should I have all the fun?
He chuckles as he forges forward.
“Where’d you go to school?”
Now she looks at me as if I invented this dolt. I know she’s thinking, ‘The last time someone asked me what school I went to was when I was in school.’ For some reason she answers him. It wasn’t a ‘I loved my college days!’ tone. It was a snarling ‘I can’t believe we’re breathing the same air.’ tone.
“USC!” He says with too much enthusiasm. At least for my friend and I. “The University of Southern California!” I could see a light in her eye flicker. Never a good sign.
“No, the university of sucking cock.”
At least he was smart enough to realize that he’d worn out his welcome.
. . .parents let me talk to their children but they do.
I’m at a friends house and his little kid is talking to me. He’s asking me questions, I’m asking him questions and it’s all going well until, let’s be honest here, I became me.
“Do you know how lakes and rivers and oceans get their water?” The kid shakes his head no. Ha! He’s fallen into my trap! Now I have to think of a trap.
The kid looks at me with that patented kid, ‘I’m not sure I’m buying this but he is an adult so must know things.’ so I continue.
“Really. I’m not kidding. They tell you it’s rain and stuff but that’s just so you won’t get scared. Have you ever been in an ocean?” He nods. “Have you ever tasted a tear?” Nods again. “They’re both salty, right?” Now I’ve got him! I’m proving a five year old is no match for my mental prowess.
“Why are they crying?”
“Because they know one day a hook is going to come down and yank them out of the water never to be seen again.” The kids eyes widen. “They see their friends and family get hooked all the time. If you saw that wouldn’t you be scared and cry all the time.”
The kid looks at me for a second. I’m nodding my head yes to show him I’m telling the truth. After a few beats he jumps off the couch and runs out of the room.
“Mommmmmm! Chris said fish tears fill the ocean. He said they cry all the time. Are our fish crying all the time?”
I’m sitting there pleased with myself because I’m a extra giant sized jerk when the kids mother sticks her head around the door. She’s laughing and shaking her head disapprovingly at me.
“Why do you do these things?”
“Because I don’t know the password to your wifi and got bored.”
Nah, I’m a jerk!
PS The kids mother sent me an email. He checks the water level of the aquarium in his house every day to see if his fish are crying too much. See? I help people become concerned about others!
. . .or does every day feel like this?