Thursday, January 19, 2012

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 3


Click here for Part 1.

Click here for Part 2.

Its not even lunchtime and I am dying for a drink. Literally dying. Thankfully me and Sad Sack are being distracted by Boobs as she makes her rounds. She’s not talking to anyone, just walking around and being sexy…from the neck down. I’ve slept with some very unattractive women in my time. But even in my most drunken state I had my limits.

Usually.

“I would hurt that woman’s feelings” Sad Sack says under his breath. I almost don’t hear him. I’m paying attention to this guy across the way watching Boobs and he has more interest than a new home. I nudge Sad Sack and his eyes go wide. God, I love Black people. They have the best reactions. “Jesus…”

“I think we should introduce ourselves” I suggest.

“Not yet” Sad Sack says. Suddenly the guy who I’ll now call Happy Hands grits his teeth and lets out a small scream. And right on cue here comes Mr. W. Scott. Happy Hands tries to pretend he doesn’t see him and starts walking towards the exit. He makes eye contact with us. Sad Sack looks at the ceiling. I wave. Mr. W. Scott sees me and shaves a few years off my life with a sneer.

“I bet that guy is the happiest one in the room” I say. “I mean, before joy kill showed up. He sees a chick like Boobs over there and instead of storing her in his Spank Bank for later he just took care of it now. Damn.”

Mr. W. Scott points to the exit and Happy Hands leaves. The room just got a little sadder. Mr. W. Scott walks over to us and eyeballs Sad Sack. He pulls out his clipboard and checks something off and walks away.

“Hate that nigga” Sad Sack says.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa!” I say. “Whoa!”

“What?” he asks.

“You absolutely have to stop saying that ugly word” I tell him.


“What?” he asks. “Nigga?”

“No” I reply. “Hate. That word has held our people back for too long.”

“Something is wrong with you” he says and heads off.

I see a guy and girl sitting together holding hands and speaking in hushed tones. I love that phrase. Hushed tones. It can only mean prayer or sexy time. They pretend to not hear me sit near them which means they’re rude. This place is a house of rudeness. I’ll call them Mary and Joseph.

“Praying, huh?” I ask them. They ignore me. “Yeah. Little prayer’s good for everyone, I say. I used to go to church every Sunday growing up. Until that priest put it in me. That was the best bible study ever…”

“Will you get the fuck away from us, asshole?!” Joseph shouts at me.

“Seriously!” Mary agrees. “Get off our shit!”

“I’m gonna be your new best friend” I tell them. And I will. Everyone likes me.

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