Tuesday, September 28, 2010

The Dick

I wrote this one about 2 1/2 years ago. I can't remember exactly what or who this was about, but I saved the draft at about 4am, and I rarely wrote immediately after work so I must have been pissed.

Sometimes when we work and we're dealing with a shithead, we want to hurt him. We want to rear back and hit him in the face as hard as we can and then throw him on the ground and jump up and down on their stupid little fucking sarcastic head. After we finish with that, we want to point and laugh and ask him how funny it is that we just punched him and stomped on his head. We want to ask him why he isn't laughing anymore and why he won't answer us.

But we'll know why. It's because he's face down, bleeding and unconscious.

But we can't do that. Most of the time, we can brush off the bullshit comments that we get. We get those comments hour after hour, night after night; & as I outline on here, post after post.

But occasionally some of them really get my blood boiling. I mean, really boiling. Sometimes we have to noticeably hold ourselves back from hurting someone because of their attitude. I've sent many a doorman inside because he was so pissed off.

We're an angry bunch, admittedly.

And so I ran into one of those guys recently. Tonight, actually.

After our encounter, I looked at our videotapes from earlier in the evening before our encounter, and saw him antagonizing nearly every random guy that he came across, simply pushing the barrier to see how far he could go. Hitting on girls that were obviously with guys, mocking the guys after they got annoyed with him hitting on their girlfriends, and just generally being a dick to every stranger within arms reach of him.

When we kicked him out, he mocked us from the start. He mocked us from the back of the bar all the way out to the front door. He mocked us from the sidewalk. He mocked us every time we walked out. But his mocking wasn't the usual mocking. He got under all of our skin, and we found ourselves trying to plan a way to tempt him into physically challenging us so we could justify beating him to a pulp. Sadly, we never went through with our evil plan.

He was one of those guys that you would see and think, wow...somebody really needs to kick his ass. I wish I could have obliged, but being the level-headed, neutral party that I'm paid to be nightly, I couldn't. I wanted to. I could have. But I didn't.

Son of a bitch.


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