Well, Fuck You Too
by B.J. Delas Armas
on 10/24/2007 09:19:00 PM
Print this post
Today, I went to the park to play my round of football/basketball. Football/basketball a game where someone tries to kick a soccer ball into the basketball hoop.
This fuckhead couple comes in while I'm clearly playing and using the hoop. They decide to play a game. Now, I don't mind shooting around, while I'm shooting around, but where's your courtesy? Can you wait? I had to wait, why can't you?
Oh is it because I look like a quiet guy, I'm not going to say anything.
Well, I just proved you right.
I hate being a pushover. I so badly wanted to Ong bak that motherfucker with chop sticks and rape the grass off his stupid bitch. Noting that USC sweatshirt this asshole had on, I really wanted to say to them things like "what the dorm room wasn't good enough for you two?" These are the times that I wish I had steel spikes at the bottom of my shoes. It would serve the purpose of eliminating unnecessary additions to our gene pool.
So to express my anger, I was trying to let it out in various ways.
First way, I kicked the soccer ball as hard as I can against the trash can. 3 times.
First time, I missed the goddamn ball and hit it awkwardly. I still had to chase it. Second time, perfect hit, but could've been harder. Third time, I missed the trash can and it sailed to that stupid fucking couple.
Then I decided to kick the steel trash can.
It made a booming noise, and those fuckheads took notice. I felt it.
I wanted to do it again!
I wanted to smash it, desensitize my leg, and smash the can like a Yaya Toure or Didier Drogba kick with the Tony Jaa smoothness and fluidity.
I decided that after I made my last kick shot, I would kick the trash can again. After all, this would assert my presence on the court and show them that shouldn't have fucked with a crazy person.
So I made the shot.
Crazy person indeed. The kind that belongs in a halfway house.
My big toe took up the brunt of the pain. I thought to myself, "so is this what broken toes feel like?" I didn't kick it with the laces.
I couldn't kick the soccer ball again if I wanted to.
I really hate people.
Labels: Life's Stories, Temper Temper