As the hours slowly progressed, I became more and more antsy to get out of J_’s house. They smoked cigarettes in her apartment, which since I smoke was a plus but after about 6 hours of mindless girl talk I was going slowly insane. Yes, J_ had a very nice movie collection but I didn’t want to just be sitting on the couch by myself watching a movie. I could do that at home. I had assumed that there would be more for me to do, even being included in a conversation would have been nice.
J_’s mom B_ was in charge of planning the gallery show and was delegating most of the work to my girlfriend. J_ the precious artist spent the hours before the show sitting on her fat ass smoking cigarettes and playing Farmville on Facebook. Every time I got up to use the bathroom or try to join the gossip circle around J_’s Mac computer the two Yorkies would bark at me as they would a burglar or poodle rapist, reinforcing my status as an outsider. The miles of wooded scenery around the family compound were closing in on me. I had to get out. Had to get to town, to civilization, to a Mobile station, something.
I went outside to my car and the spoiled, yapping dogs following in hot pursuit. They nipped at my ankles and continued barking. I managed to get into the car but just as I was beginning to back out I spied one of the mangy little bastards in my rear view mirror. Now, I love animals. I would never want to hurt a pet; but let me tell you, I had to spend a good 30 seconds talking myself out of backing up that car over Mama J’s precious baby and straight through B_’s living room window. A little something to think about after raising an inconsiderate indigo child who in turn raised two dogs with no discipline.
One of my few shining moments of the weekend was the night before, just a few hours after having arrived. We were at a giant high fructose corn syrup dispensary. Not just a 7-11, this was a new generation of fat ass convenience stores. It had a fully stocked arsenal of every sugary product I could think of. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big guy who loves food. I like a weekly soda or preferably an egg cream but when I see someone already overweight filling a 42 ounce cup with a substance that can be used as paint remover my disgust level gets tuned up to 10.
In this case I was able to use my rage; I channeled it into a more fashionable sarcastic black humor. I was mocking the clerk but he didn’t know it. I can’t remember what I said and I ‘m glad. I was guilty of pretentiousness, something used by the over-educated jackasses to make themselves feel superior to a well-meaning slow-witted person. The girls however, ate it up.
So here I was, headed back to town and I had an innocent pooch standing by my car’s bumper, barking that same intruder bark. At the last moment J_ or B_, I honestly can’t remember, shooed the dog away from my car. I drove into town by the relatively flat, long way.