I like this quite a bit. The only thing that would make it better would be:
Hulk/Chewie - They can rip your arms out of their sockets.
So this guy walked up to me at my work…
And he looked like Quentin Tarantino with a little more hair and a faint redness around his mouth like he’s been wetting more than just his lips with his tongue. He wore a leather jacket and his button-up shirt was open from mid-chest up. A necklace dangled and tangled on his hairy chest. All I could think of was “douche” when he approached.
Then it got interesting. And I can’t make this PG. The language said was real and was not mine. Keep that in mind.
He says, “Where’s your fucking mousse? I can’t fucking find it. Tresemme mouse. I need Tresemme mouse.” He speaks like he’s either drunk or had a recent stroke. I couldn’t tell. All I could smell was his powering cologne.
I try to help him without making it too awkward. But then he goes straight into his life story.
“It’s for my fucking girlfriend… My fucking.” He takes one angry breath in, ANGRY. That’s the moment I knew I might die. He continues, “I’m losing my fucking hair. You see this? My fucking hair is falling out. You know why?”
I try to say as few words as possible, hoping he would leave. But I’m cursed so that didn’t happen… But alas, Tresemme mousse. I found it. I ask him if he wants the volumizing or extra hold one. He stares at them for what feels hours.
“What do you think I should get? My fucking hair is falling out. I need to look like it’s not fucking falling out. Do you know how it got this way?”
I really didn’t care and did not say word but…
“Fucking stress. From this bitch. Look at me. I’m 51 years old. I don’t look it, but I’m getting there pretty fucking fast. I use to be a fighter pilot. Fucking bitch. Fucking hid from me for a year. And it took me one day to find the bitch at a fucking strip club.”
He huffed and puffed again, sucking in the anger from any living soul nearby to add to his.
“She’s a fucking porn star. Bethany Benz. Have you heard of her?” I shake my head “No.” I know porn like I know cars, which is not at all. I fail as a man , I know. “Fucking nigger cunt.” That’s when I start to back away but he isn’t done talking. “She gave me HIV.”
Now I’m just waiting for him to tell me she’s tied up in his trunk. He pulls his jacket open and reaches into his inside pocket like he’s going to yank a gun out, but don’t worry, “It’s not a gun, I’m looking for my cigarettes.” Well I’m glad I was that much safer…
“Fucking bitch. I can’t fucking deal with this. I used to be fucking hot. Now look at me.” He takes another glance at the mousse. “You know what? I don’t fucking need this. I need to get the fuck home and drink. That’s what I need.”
He started to walk away finally.
“You’re a nice guy. I didn’t mean to drop my problems on you. I got girls half her age wanting to be me. Fuck her, right?”
“You go be with those girls, man. Relax.”
I escaped as fast as I could. And Bethany Benz… if you’re real… and this guy’s story was real… this guy is PISSED.
I just saw some Arthur art on here and made me realize I had made my own in the past. That website was fun. I must find it again.
