Reconciling With Unpleasant People

"Wise Men Say Forgiveness Is Divine, But Never Pay Full Price For Late Pizza"

(If you remember this, your childhood wasn't awesome and you're at least in your 20s)

I'm looking out to a massive crowd of thousands of people. One out of every 3 of them will never be able to forgive some dickhead in their life. Or will they?...this is the internet--the stats I just threw out there are as fake as middle school puppy love (Statistics are silly anyway). Anyway, without throwing some stupid numbers at everyone, from my experience many turds cannot be reconciled with. It isn't just because they are horrible people, but....well reconciliation is difficult for the person stepping forward. Think of it as being the only non-white person stepping into a KKK meeting--it's awkward, you probably hate each other, and finding any reasonable thing to say is damn near impossible.  

With that being said, there are a few questions you need to ask yourself. "Am I the bag of shit? Are they the bag of shit? Are we both piles of shit in the bag together?" Basically, who's the stubborn person in the situation? After one of these glorious questions have been answered it's time to ask yet another question--"Is it forgivable?" How does somebody even receive forgiveness without groveling like an ant begging for its' life as a demented child burns him alive with a magnifying glass? Oh you didn't know that ants grovel? They do.

Short Story Bakery: Savages

A Curious Dance

Some fucking mall in Southern California, mid-day

     A man holding two shopping bags, wearing a pair of loosely fitted brown khakis, and a black T-shirt stopped near the entrance of a sunglasses store. Lilly, the store associate continuously glanced at this man with curiosity as he stood there for 84 seconds. On the 85th second he began wiggling his hips around, ending this strange dance routine by kicking out his right leg and shaking it. After his display of odd behavior, he exited the small stage he created into the crowds of fashionable shoppers. 

Short Story Bakery: A Night To Remember

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

8:17PM A Cool Huntington Beach California Evening     

     "Leave her the fuck alone Megan!"

     "Priscilla stop fucking defending Quasimodo, she's going to see just what happens when she fucks with other peoples' boyfriends!"

     "She didn't do anything Megan! HE started talking to HER!"

     Megan pushed Veronica down in the middle of the quad, dozens of curious eyes bearing witness to the event. Shouts of "Quasimodo go back to your bell tower!" Could be heard among the trickles of laughter. 

     "Oh look, are those spots of dirt on your face? Oh no? That's natural isn't it Quasimodo?" Megan said as she looked down at Veronica.

     "I...I didn't do anything, I'm sorry Megan," Veronica said mortified with tears in her eyes. 

     "Have some milk, you ugly bitch," Megan grabbed a carton of milk and poured it all over Veronica, "Don't ever fucking talk to MY boyfriend again," Megan said as she walked away triumphantly.

     The school staff intervened, herding the gathered students like cattle to their classes. Priscilla returned after everyone dispersed to see Veronica sitting outside the school office in her change of P.E. clothes with dried milk in parts of her short wavy black hair--the milk remnants giving off a sour pungent scent. Veronica was staring down at the cracks in the concrete floor.

     "Vee...don't worry, you only have two more years at this school," Priscilla said quietly.

     Veronica looked up at Priscilla, speechless, with tears in her dull green eyes.

     "Vee, are you okay honey?"  

Here Comes A Regular; Good Times At The Bottom Of Your Glass

DISCLAIMER: I am actually heavily intoxicated while writing this. It's going to likely take a dozen proof reads or so, but I hope it's worth it.

(8:35 PM: Fuck.)

I'll have another--and don't forget my orange, bitch

Another Bottle Down

(10:07 PM:  Well that was abrupt)

"Another bottle down; you should really try it sometime cause' it feels so good."
-Asking Alexandria "Another Bottle Down"

Oh Alcohol you can be so classy, but at the same time you can be a savage caveman. You make us do silly things, regretful things ("Oh shit I slept with THAT!?"), violent things (getting straight gangster on unsuspecting people who looked at your girlfriend or boyfriend), and at times you can depress the shit out of us. Our bodies are destroyed on a daily basis by the warm fuzzy feeling we get as we drink you in excess, but we don't care we love you anyway. We're all masochists here and you are the life (or death) of the party! Prohibition in the United States (1919) was an attempt to stop the consumption and production of you and your brothers and sisters, but was of course turned over in 1933. Why did that even take place? Because you can be a deadly mother fucker that's why.

Methamphetamine; Take Me For A Ride

This Love is a Drug

(Doctor, I might need another prescription)

When the unattainable becomes available for only a moment, and the sighs, screams, and whispers become ever prevalent would you know what to do? When to stop? Where to hide? Like a meth addiction, you cannot always support the habit, but when it comes to fruition it is pure ecstasy. Bliss. What happens when the person you're giddy about cannot even look at you the same way anymore? The dealer is out of product, you won't get it again for a while--when or if it ever returns how will you buy it? With caution? Or lay all your chips on the table like a gambler without a care in the world?

In the Immortal Words of the Virgin Mary: Come Again?

(I'm on top of this mountain, and you are waaaaay down there, see? Oh wait, no I can't see you I'm too busy devaluing who you are)

What are you even talking about Brian? It's simple my friends, that arduous period of time where you cannot let go of your feelings for another person. You need your fix, you have that itch, you've had a taste and want more. How can you get it again? If they are set in their decision to let you go--a diatribe against this person does not help,  nuclear missles won't help, shaking salt over your shoulder and carving pentagrams into your earlobes in the name of satan won't help either. This is a withdrawal, and just like a withdrawal it's a helpless situation that only time may remedy. Time is an asshole.

Separation Through Devouring Each Other; I Love Home-Cooked Meals

The Mantis and You

(If you know what this comes from, kudos)

Sexual Cannibalism. This phenomena is a common occurance during the period of reproduction for the Mantis. Females will begin eating the heads off their male partners after the mating ritual is complete. Their hunger doesn't stop at reproduction, but the literal consumption of the Mantis who fulfilled their need--a process that we seem to practice a lot these days.

"They just had sex and she...ate him?"

So what I mean by "we seem to practice this," doesn't mean I'm saying we all turn Hannibal Lecter after we sleep with someone--no. This is a look into the failures of relationships because of the unsatiable appetites we seem to have. We want our partner to change minor irrelevant behavior, we want them to be able to afford a house made of marble, we want them to become a different person, we want to snort coke off hookers, and to quote The Doors: "We want the world and we want it NOW."

You're a Jerk, Yet I Strangely Want to be Like You? (WARNING: Mature Audiences Only)

"Hey Mark! How's it going bro? How is everything?"

"Good man! It's all good! Me and Jess just had our 4 year anniversary last week." 

"That's insane! You might as well marry her already. Little baby Marjess."

"Well we'll talk about that later. Where's the keg at?"

"It should be....over there?...the fuck? Did HE show up???"

"No way...have you seen Jess? It's been a few hours already..."

And just like that you see an old grey Chevy Silverado speeding off with the keg in the bed and Jess all over the guy in the front seat. Oh no that's not even the best part about it. This fucking guy is laughing and smiling the entire time while making fellatio gestures at Mark. He's a nihilistic machine: the inebriated, fighting, fucking, shit-talking sailor that everyone hates. But god damn would you love to be him.

Livin' the Life

So what does it take to be one of these creatures? It's simple: don't care about ANYTHING. Unleash every primal instinct, take zero accountability for any of your actions, and NEVER let another motherfucker tell you what to do. 

("Motherfucker" is shorthand for "person")

Basically unlearn everything you have ever been taught. Urinate in the toilet? Fuck that here's someones' coveted garden gnome. Oh is fire bad? Let's see what these gas tanks and spray paint cans have to say about that! But let's be honest here, this is probably the most extreme version of this type of person. These people may or may not be all that bad, but they will certainly exhibit at least one of these extreme behaviors.