Getting too excited playing games and disturbing the neighbors. The burning I feel, it is shame.
He waited until the train was in motion to make his move—a true sign of someone who knows how to make the environment work to their advantage. Then he leaned forward. “Hi.” “How you doing?” “What are you reading?” “What’s your name?” “I really like your hair.” “That’s a really nice skirt.” “You must work out.”
It was painful to watch. She clearly wanted nothing to do with him, and he clearly wasn’t going to take the hint. Her rebukes got firmer. “I’d like to read my book.” And he pulled out the social pressure. “Hey, I’m just asking you a question. You don’t have to be so rude.” She started to look around for outs. Her head swivelled from one exit to another.
The thing was, I had already heard this story, many many times. I knew how it would play out. I knew all the tropes. I probably could have quoted the lines before they said them. I wanted a new narrative. Time to mix it up.
So I moved seats until I was sitting behind him. I leaned forward with my head on the back of his seat.
"Hi," I said with a little smile.
He looked at me like I was a little crazy—which isn’t exactly untrue—and turned back to her.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"I’m fine," he said flatly without ever looking back.
"I really like your hair," I said. “It looks soft."
That’s about when it got…..weird.
He sort of half turned and glared back me, and I could tell I was pissing him off. His eyes told me to back the hell away, and his lips were pressed together tightly enough to drain the color from them completely.
But no good story ever ends with the conflict just defusing. He started to turn back to her.
"Wait, don’t be like that," I said. “Lemmie just ask you one question…"
"What!" he said in that you-have-clearly-gone-too-far voice that is part of the freshmen year finals at the school of machismo.
And I’m not exactly a hundred percent sure why I didn’t call it a day at that point, but…..maybe I just love turning the screw to see what happens. I gave him the bedroomy-est eyes I could muster. “What’s your name?”
Right now I’m sitting here typing out this story, and I’m still not entirely sure why I’m not nursing a fat lip or a black eye. Because that obviously made him so mad that I still am not sure why it didn’t come to blows. There are cliches about eyes flaring and rage behind someones eyes and shit like that that are so overdone. But it really does look like that. When someone gets violent, their eyes just kind of “pop” with intention—pupils dilate, eyelids widen. And his did. Even sitting down he was clearly bigger than me and I was pretty sure he was kind of muscular too, so at that moment I was figuring I was probably going to need an ice pack and sympathy sex from my girlfriend by day’s end.
"DUDE," he shouted. “I’M NOT GAY."
That’s when I dropped the bedroom eyes and switched to a normal voice. “Oh well I could see not being interested didn’t matter to you when you were hitting on her, so I just thought that’s how you rolled.”
this post is gold
this shirt would fit if it weren’t for boobs: a tragedy
that shirt would fit if i had boobs: the sequel
this shirt fits perfectly because my boobs are the right size: the fanfiction
my shirts always fit: a man’s tale
what shirt: a nudist au
i find it so sad that he smiles less and less as the years go on. this picture really is worth a thousand words. :(
In english, we say “shut the fuck up” but in spanish they say “cierra la boca puta” which translates to shut your bitch mouth and i think thats beautiful
"ANGUS! KILL IT!" screamed Hew."I’ll kill ye," muttered Angus angrily to himself, then looked down and saw the oil lying alongside the shots used as ammunition for the cannons, and inspiration struck again. Reaching down, he grabbed the flasks of oil in a heap, lifting them up and then began tossing them one by one at the elephant, onto its head, it’s back, its sides and all around the basket. It bellowed in surprise as flasks broke against its body and oil began to run all the way down it, twisting about in circles looking for its attacker. It slammed into the
midst of the herd that had been following it seeking guidance, sending the Timurid riders flying from their necks and backs, its tusks goring into their sides.
"ANGUS!?! WHAT ARE YE DOING!?!" cried Hew.
"KILLING IT, YE STUPID BASTARD!" laughed Angus, lighting the torch that the Timurid cannoneer had used to fire his cannon.
He lifted the torch high and grinned happily,”I’ll see you in hell, elephant! NOW BURN! BURN YE BASTARD!”
He dropped the torch and oil ignited, the elephant screaming in terror as it was engulfed, flames shooting up all around Angus, casting a demonic light on his face as he stood at the centre of the inferno roaring with laughter, and shouting the same two words over and over again,”I WIN! I WIN! I WIN!”
As battles waged on the Eastern front and Northwestern front, a lone Scottish soldier rode his horse past the bodies of dead Scotsmen, Timurids, horses and even the odd elephant here and there. He halted his horse beside the body of his General, a man he had followed since his youth in the desert city of Yerevan. Stepping down, the Scotsman took the shoulder of his General and turned him around, wanting to say his goodbye to the often brutal man who had nonetheless inspired such great loyalty.
"Goodbye, Ang-" he started, and then the dead man sat bolt upright.
"ELEPHANTS!" screamed Angus the Mauler, then smashed his fist into his soldier’s face, knocking him senseless. Angus staggered up and instantly slumped against the other man’s horse, fighting off dizziness then turning to glare at the dead bodies around him, and the fighting going on in the distance.
"Elephaaaaants," hissed Angus, fire in his eyes as he grabbed the saddle of the horse by his side and hauled himself up. He took another moment to fight the fresh wave of dizziness that threatened to overtake him, then spurred his horse and rode full tilt towards the nearest elephant he could see, screaming the same word over and over again.