Why do assholes feel the need to talk so much? Is it the calming drone of one's own voice inside one's own head? Does the asshole look at the faces of the people he's subjecting his asinine conversation, or is he blissfully unaware? I'm voting for unaware.
Case in point: last night at, of all places, "Fat Tuesday" on South Street.
I'm going to be unusually brief, but you'll get the point. Asshole 1 and 2 (no relation to asshole 1 and 2 of mardi gras fame) walk around the bar and start skirmishes. Asshole 2 has someone's dog tags and talks about being in the Air Force or some such bullshit. I had downed a few Duvells, 2 190 octanes (the local frozen drink), and perhaps a shot or two; so when it was my turn to be regaled by his slurred "souja" stories, I told him "I didn't realize the Air Force recruited midgets. Asshole."
Obviously I wasn't on the top of my game (he was REALLY short though), and he took it as insulting camradarie. Why me, oh god!? Why must the assholes of the world love ME? What have I done to earn your spite? I'll kill pagans, go celibate, eat nothing but fish for a year! Just please turn off my "Flypaper-for-freaks" allure.
The night ended when pseudo-souja failed to navigate around a table and somehow knocked down an entire bachlorette party. I have to admit, I was highly amused by this, and began an applause which was taken up by others. The bouncers picked him up, threw him out, and started to drag asshole #1 out. And, surprisingly, they came for me. So what did I say?
"Sir, I don't even know these assholes."
The bouncer laughed, and asshole #1 somehow heard me say this as they gave him the 'ol "drunkie heave ho!" into south street's stumbling, 1am populace.
"I'll get you mother-fucking traitor!" He shouted from outside.
Sure you will, buddy. Sure you will.
--HK_Newbie
