I couldn’t tolerate the family discussion of my grandfather’s funeral after an hour & a half of flowery speeches & what sounded mostly to me like nonsense & self contradiction. I’d sat there listening to these people who hadn’t come to visit my grandfather in the 2 weeks he was dying planning out their imminent chance to shine at his coming funeral, droning out their apparent expertise in the subject of funerals & even indulging in more than a little self aggrandization here at the meeting where we were supposed to just figure out who was going to do what.
I did everything I could for him while he was still alive. They can do whatever the fuck they want with his funeral.
I took a shower, got dressed, & headed out to the Hut.
When I got there the usual Monday night football assholes were there including this gross, fat dude who once physically harrassed one of my friends there in the bar for several minutes, pressing against her as she sat in the bar stool, stroking her thighs even as she screamed at him to get away from her. None of the bar staff did anything for fear of losing their jobs, since this humanoid slime was one of the owner’s friends. I ended up calling the cops, for nothing since my friend decided against making a report because she didn’t want to rock the boat either.
Cathy joined me & as we sat on the bar chatting, this very guy began trying to get her attention. “Babe,” he kept saying. “Babe. Babe.”
He asked if he could take our karaoke book. Nevermind that he could easily ask the bartender, with over half a dozen books lying behind the bar. He had to have ours. Cathy passed it to him.
“Who the fuck would call someone he didn’t know ‘babe,'” I said, inciting a low growl of amazement from the neanderthals. They looked like they were going to fuck off & mind their own business for a little while until one of them started talking to Cathy. When I turned & looked at him he made various gestures of submission, trying to make friends.
“I just don’t like him,” I said, pointing to the original guy. On cue, my target began mouthing off, saying he was sorry & he didn’t know why I wouldn’t like him.
“I was here with ___ & while she screamed at you to get away from her, you were rubbing your body up against her & touching her. You kept rubbing her thighs with your hand.” No music was playing & the whole bar could hear me. There were muffled sounds of embarrassment from his friends. He said again that he was sorry. “I think that’s a good reason not to like you,” I continued.
The bartender looked at him & apologized. “I know you have to be nice to him,” I said. “But I don’t.”
He & his friends went outside for a smoke. I suppose it was the most appropriate thing to do at that point.
Eventually the wannabe rapist & his friends left, except for the one who was trying to make friends with us. He insisted that he would buy whatever we wanted to drink. I pulled the waittress on the side, “Who is this guy?” I asked her. “Can I be a dick to him?”
“Yes,” she said.
I’ll cut it short. My new benefactor bought me 6 $6 shots while I cut him down, gave him attitude & called him names. I demanded more shots. I called him a pussy, told him he was full of shit, & laughed at him whenever he talked. I verbally nailed him for every single thing he said that was even remotely out of line, making him retreat, insisting he was just trying to be funny. When he tried to whine, I cut him off & said I didn’t give a shit.
“You know, I thought you were mean,” he said.
“I totally am,” I said, very seriously. Hey, I’m not a liar.
He kept babbling to Cathy about how cool & crazy I was. When my tab came he paid it.
I don’t understand.
Ok, I understand that this guy, & the guys he cruises in the bar with, are all stupid. They demonstrate it every time I see them. It’s like they are itching to be told off, like they are looking for some way to get yelled at.
I just never thought one of them would like it so much.
Anyway, I feel better about the funeral. Next time I see that dude I’ll buy him a shot. Then call him a pussy.