There's this guy that I don't know who I really hate. I don't even know what he looks like or his name or what he does for a living or where he lives, but man I really hate that fucker.
I was standing in the queue in the supermarket, and he was this irritating presence right behind me. Like right behind me. The queue would move forward ever so slightly, and he was right the fuck behind me. What was the go with the tiny weeny personal space? The guy in front of me was about half an arm's length away, whereas Small Personal Space guy was breathing down my neck. Literally. The line moved forward three steps, but I didn't budge. Neither did SPS Guy. So I waited... and waited... and eventually I moved forward really slowly, just half a step... and fuck me if SPS Guy didn't immediately fill the space. I really thought I was going to lose it there for a bit and turn on the bastard. "JUST WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM YOU CREEPY FUCKER? WHAT ARE YOU - MY FUCKING SHADOW? ARE WE VELCROED TOGETHER? ARE WE SIAMESE TWINS? YOU WANNA HOLD MY GODDAMN HAND? OOH THE LINE JUST MOVED... WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALL THE WAY OVER THERE? COME ALL THE WAY OVER HERE YOU BITCH! YEAH, THAT'S BETTER, MOVE IN NICE AND CLOSE BECAUSE I WAS STARTING TO MISS YOU."
I just don’t get it. Was it me? Was there some kind of animal magnetism going on? Were my two upturned bananas giving out the wrong signals? Had someone secretly put a tattoo on the back of my neck saying, “Breathe here hotly if you are a creepy little SPS person”? Had someone sticky-taped a sign to my back saying, "“Stay right on top of this guy – he’s trying to get away.”?
I just wanted to buy my tin of re-fried beans. That’s all.
Fucking weirdo humans.
Grumpy
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About This Blog
- Lee Bemrose
- Random writings, stories, magazine theatre reviews and interviews, fiction, and occasionally my bi-weekly column Grumpy, which used to appear in the pages of Tsunami mag. Oh and be sure to check out my ebook, 17 Stories Of Love & Crime.
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9 comments:
Ha ha ha! I would have paid one FRILLION dollars to hear you say that.
"You wanna hold my goddamn hand" HA HA! That's classic.
What secret word? What the hell are you on about? There is no secret word. You're just being paranoid.
Bag of large heavy pointy shit is a good idea though.
And Jennifer... oh just refer to that email about gee you're funny. I keep going to post comments on your site and going ooh I dunno, she's a bit too funny... and then I just hang about in the corner before deciding that I really should just go home and water the plants.
My secret word is cgyabw.
Jennifer is the funniest thing ever. But you are funny too.
And everything is funny because I listened to Henry Rollins prattle on for a bit before getting a little Kamal action, yawining at Franz, then seein Iggy Pop totally fucking... crap, maybe when I straighten up I'll do a proper post... I am scootered...
He comes to Guyana too. And sometimes he needs a bath. And coughs on my back.
AAAAAAAGUUUGH.
Ha, GG - for a minute there I didn't know whether you were talking about Henry Rollins or Iggy Pop...
ygazyotf.
Nah, same ol' guy in the queue, the one who wants to hold your hand and cough on me.
I realised that, GG, after a couple of minutes of picturing you giving Iggy Pop a bath :)
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