The Quiet Asshole

I think I may be an asshole.  Oddly enough it has nothing to do with any of the actions that I take when I am drunk and don’t like someone, nor is it because of the bluntness in which I tell people how I feel about things.  I think I am an asshole because of all the shitty things I think about people and never ever say aloud, especially when I haven’t eaten.

When I haven’t eaten, every lame joke you tell makes me call you the worst names imaginable in my mind.  Sometimes I spit in your face or do bodily harm.  I smashed Will’s face through the driver;s side window this morning for doing this dumb ass “Ramadan dun dun dun dun” and air guitar thing that I have heard him say at least twenty times.  Chris and I never once have laughed so why would he continue to it over and over and over and over and…  and even if we did laugh, we aren’t toddlers, we aren’t going to laugh at this shitty joke or any joke at all over and over again.  And if I have to hear about his lifting 360 pounds when he had hair and was in high school, I will puke directly on his face.  That’s how I feel every fucking time I hear his smug voice and then watch him twist his hips back and forth like he is slapping his cock against back and forth against each leg. 

“You are way too close to my head to be swinging that thing around like that.  Go back to your damn closet office and put some underwear on or something”… is what i should have said.  Instead I just grind my teeth and seethe with mental rage and thoughts of violence.

I didn’t hold my composure quite as well later in the day.  When our shift was over we went apartment hunting because we are being forced out of our current living arrangements.  I was going on a few hours without food, and it being Ramadan we were not able to just pick something up.  I rode Fabian’s car with Chris.  Will was stuck riding with Chuck (who is an entirely different and much greater annoyance).  Will and Chuck really don’t get along, almost as much as Chuck and I don’t get along.  After seeing the first place we walked back to the cars and Will rushed to Fabian’s car to take my seat.  I sat in back and Chuck drove alone.  Later after seeing another apartment I made sure to get to passenger side and as I was opening the door he yells shotgun.  In high school this would have been normal.  But a 45 year old man yelling shotgun in order to avoid riding in a car with someone is so immature that it makes me a little depressed that I still felt compelled to honor it.

“What are we five, you fucking retard?”, I said, “I’ll give it to you but you’re being an immature ass”.   On the ride home I thought about how pathetic this man was and how much I wished awful awful things would happen to him.

Believe it or not, I like this guy.  We had lunch together afterwards and I forgot about all the horror movie images I pictured occurring to Will while I sat in the back seat… quiet.