Tonight I ran to Macs. The 24 hour joint for all your binge, ice cream, and magazine needs. And he was there. The mouth breathing slacker. The one who I have seen every evening for the last 3 years. All greasy hair and 3 day beard. And not the cool kind of 3 day beard that Peter on Heroes has, the kind that looks like he just crawled out of a drug den where Afghan rebels had been testing new strands of opium on him. His fingers riddled with callouses from playing World of Warfare non-stop for 24 months straight. In his mind he was one tattoo way from being the shit.
From the look in his eyes as he tossed me my M&Ms I could see he was living in his Facebook world. Where he was 6 feet tall and has 423 friends, and was writing cool esoteric messages on everyone's fun wall. He loathed me, because I made him punch in the money I owed him into the till. To him, I was every evil yuppie who torments him every day of his life. Why won't I just let him cuddle with his Lord of Rings replica sword and fondle his blow up doll in peace? Don't I know he is one air guitar rif away from greatness?
3 comments:
HA!! You Bitch...keeping him from his full potential!
Damn you're funny.
I know the guy you mean...I've tried everything to get him to change his facial expression... just once... a smile, frown, look of surprise... even annoyance... anything... and try as I might nothing I do gets rid of that blank look (and I'm pretty funny when I've had a few). I guess some people just aren't people people !!
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