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Who's Kicking Who

Sometimes it's just about impossible to tell what's going to set someone off. I mean, I legitimately tripped. The toe of my boot caught the leg of the stool. As simple as that. I turn back to apologize to the guy sitting there. He says, Why don't I watch where I'm going. A little fucker, this guy. Small but wiry, you know. A hard look to his face, slicked back hair, mustache, cheap blue ink on his hands and arms. Hunched over a draft and a lit cigarette. Something… I don't know. I just didn't like it. I should have ignored it and moved on. I know. So I say, What the fuck did you just say to me? He says, Back off I just got out of prison. Now I can't explain it, but that just made me so fucking angry I could've, I couldn't hardly stand it. It's like, if I'd found that out without him saying anything about it, I'd just leave him alone. He doesn't need any more grief right now. But he says it, for shock value, I guess you'd call it. Then he turns back to his beer, a brush off. I can tell. Disdain. I just didn't like where this guy was coming from and I'm not talking about prison, either. Motherfucker. Next thing I knew is somehow I got hold of him and he's on the floor and I'm wailing my foot into his guts. Real bad. I mean, I am just about literally kicking the shit out of this guy. This intimidation thing he tried to pull. Now he's giving out this choked groan whenever I dig my foot, my right foot, into his kidney, his stomach, ribs, back. Didn't cry out for me to stop, barely tried to get away. Just laid there and took it. It pissed me off even more. His eyes bulged out, the veins in his neck bulged out. His mouth was open, stretched wide, like he was straining to dry-heave. A beaten dog, beaten too many times. Well, that's life. For some people, anyway. It happens, you know. Then I just stopped and left. I guess I was done so I left. I was breathing hard and fast, like a machine or something. On my way out the door, this girl started coming up to me, a babe. Babes are Playboy. Hotties are Penthouse. Not that good-looking, but pretty in that way. She looked concerned, worried. Hey… she started to say. Forget it, I puffed and walked past her out the door to my car. Man, I was flying home. I started thinking what the fuck makes anyone think a traffic light is going to stop me. Bullshit. They just plant those things anywhere.

I barely made it to the door. Finally I closed it and turned the two bolts. Not much farther though before I started crying my eyes out.

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