How Long Do We Have To Stare At Each Other Like We’re Going To Fight Without Having To Show How Masculine We Aren’t

OH MAN! This guy over here is being SO obnoxious, isn’t he? I knew it was going to be a rough night as soon as we walked in here. You could hear him laughing WAY too hard, and he’s clearly already wasted. He keeps quoting Dane Cook. Jesus, man, this guy…I swear, I just want to run over a smack him around a little bit, you know? Just be like ‘SHUT UP!’ and maybe slap him. Because if ANYONE deserves a nice open palm smack in the jowls, it’s this douche. What a douche!

Dammit. He heard me. We are making silent eye contact. Has anyone noticed? Everyone has noticed. Dammit.

I don’t care that he heard me. “Yeah! I don’t” What’s he going to do? Beat me up? That’d be crazy…first off, he’d get kicked right the F out of here. We probably won’t have to worry about that for too much longer, he looks barely conscious right now. I mean, are his eyes ALWAYS crossed like that? What a tool. Second off…”I DON’T CARE, MAN! WHATEVER!” What did he say about me? Oh, man, I would drop that guy so bad. Ba-BOOM! And he’s down and out. Night-night, kid. Are you serious? I’d lay him out! No question, no question…he’d be a dead man. It’d be one quick smack in the face, and he’d be done-zo. Period.

He’s bigger than I am…well, he’s fatter. He could sit on me! Oh, please don’t let him sit on me, please don’t let him sit on me, please don’t let him sit on meeeee…these floors are nasty.

This chump had better stop staring at us. I know, right? Do you really think he heard me? Whatever, man, I HOPE he heard me. Maybe he’ll shut the hell up and let people drink in peace…did I just hear him right? Did he say something about my mom?! Whoa, pretty ballsy move, douche bag. Maybe I should go over there and mess with him. Oh, I’d do it, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I WANT to, in fact. It’s been so long since I’ve been in a fight, I almost want to get all that adrenaline pumping. Seriously, I wish he’d come over here and say something right to my face.

I bruise like a peach, and I’m pretty sure I fractured my wrist on Wii Bowling a couple of weeks ago. Oh, God, he’s still looking at me…I am in deep here.

You’re with me on this, right? You can’t talk that way about girls, man, you just can’t. It’s not cool, I don’t care how drunk you may be. Some stuff just doesn’t fly. Does anybody here even KNOW this guy? It’s almost funny at this point, how belligerent this guy is. It’d be funnier if someone just decked him right in the mouth, though. He looks like some weak sauce. A whole lot of talk with nothing to back it up…WHAT DID HE JUST SAY? Whoa, whoa, whoa, not cool man! “SHUT UP, DOUCHE BAG!” Did he just call me gay? That’s it – someone hold me back. I’m telling this idiot off. I’m doing it. I’ll do it.

How long do we have to stare at each other like we’re going to fight without having to show how masculine we aren’t? Seriously, I’m going to look like a huge pussy if we do this, so please don’t make me do this. I’m not even dating these girls here, it would look so bad.

“Yeah, OKAY. I’ll see you LATER, MAN.” It’s a really good thing that guy backed down, I would have hated to have dropped him. I probably would’ve gotten thrown out, too. Sure, it would’ve been worth it, but, c’mon, I’m trying to have a good night out with my friends here. When the time comes, I’d be able to scrap. Sure I would. But there’s a time and place guys. Some loudmouth jackass in a bar isn’t really worth it. No, this guy’s not worth it. Not one bit.


Whoa!…Oh, I thought something…um…was behind me.

Oh, no, I pissed my pants a little.

Okay, so I’m going to take off. See ya. No, I didn’t pee myself.

Published by Zack Stovall

Writer living in New York, NY.

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