Monday, November 14, 2005

Drink Your Beer, Smoke Your Cigarette and Shut the Fuck Up

Lemme ask you something. What in the hell do you think you're doing? You are, of course, aware that your wife and I are friends, right?

Why, in God's name, do feel it necessary to tell me these things? It's bad enough that I catch you staring all the time. EVERYONE catches you staring. It's sick, and it creeps me out. Knock it off.

For the record, I do not feel a special bond with you. I don't care if you feel that the life you were supposed to lead has passed you by. The fact that you think you married the wrong woman is of no consequence to me, other than it makes me certain that marrying you was the dumbest thing she's ever done.

What, for one second, ever made you think that I would be interested in you? I'm not that kind of girl, and I never, ever will be. Screwing around with my friend's husband is about as appealing to me as a plantar's wart.

You're lucky. The only reason I haven't told her is because I know it may kill her. She loves you so much, you dickhead. She couldn't handle finding out what a scumbag you really are.

So, please, give it up. It's not going to happen. Stop putting your hand on my knee when you think no one's looking. Stop coming up to me to give me one of those "friendly" hugs. Stop whispering "you are so beautiful" in my ear. Enough.

Drink your beer, smoke your cigarette, shut the fuck up...and leave me the hell alone.

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