The Asshat Cometh
I am in need of whimsy due to a call that I received at 3:11 p.m. central time. It's a call that I knew would come, but didn't want to take. However, avoiding the necessary wouldn't be prudent. The Asshat formerly known as Running Man (or Cute Tushy if you follow my plurks) made the error of darkening my Verizon doorstep.
I haven't talked to him since July 27. He called and quickly ended the conversation with an abrupt "gotta go! can't talk. I'll talk to you later." And before I could get out the word 'bye' he was gone. At that time I shut my pink Razr phone with disbelief and irritation. A few other expletives followed; muttered under my breath. We'd hardly talked that entire week prior and no word would follow until ...
... August 1 at 11:39 p.m. a familiar chime came over the phone. I jumped with hopes it was a friend texting me from the Regeneration Tour Concert in Las Vegas. My heart fell seeing it was from Asshat Running Man (ARM from now on.) I read it. Ignored it. Forgot it.
Today the strains of Lily Allen's "Everything is Wonderful" played on my phone. I knew who it was. I gave a momentary thought to letting it Lily finish singing. Instead, I answered with a dull, monotone, short, as emotionless as possible hello.
He asked if I knew who was calling. I replied, "yep." He stammered and mumbled. No apologies for his lack of contact. I didn't want explanation. I wanted the final word.
"Did you get my text that I sent the other night?"
"I did. I chose to ignore it."
"Oh. Am I disturbing you? *incoherent mumbling again*"
"You're not disturbing me. I'm home. What I find disturbing is that you're calling me and expecting a warm greeting. WE have nothing invested in this. Your lack of contact pretty well spelled out that it/we/this thing is done."
"Uhm, mumble mumble mumble... I have to go. Can I call you later?"
"No. I don't think that's advisable. I mean you can talk to me now. But I have had my fill of you always having to rush off without explanation. You're the one who called me after two weeks of virtually no contact. I don't need cloak and dagger mysterio drama. You cut me off."
"Uhm, OK. I ..."
"yep. This is good bye." click.
I haven't talked to him since July 27. He called and quickly ended the conversation with an abrupt "gotta go! can't talk. I'll talk to you later." And before I could get out the word 'bye' he was gone. At that time I shut my pink Razr phone with disbelief and irritation. A few other expletives followed; muttered under my breath. We'd hardly talked that entire week prior and no word would follow until ...
... August 1 at 11:39 p.m. a familiar chime came over the phone. I jumped with hopes it was a friend texting me from the Regeneration Tour Concert in Las Vegas. My heart fell seeing it was from Asshat Running Man (ARM from now on.) I read it. Ignored it. Forgot it.
Today the strains of Lily Allen's "Everything is Wonderful" played on my phone. I knew who it was. I gave a momentary thought to letting it Lily finish singing. Instead, I answered with a dull, monotone, short, as emotionless as possible hello.He asked if I knew who was calling. I replied, "yep." He stammered and mumbled. No apologies for his lack of contact. I didn't want explanation. I wanted the final word.
"Did you get my text that I sent the other night?"
"I did. I chose to ignore it."
"Oh. Am I disturbing you? *incoherent mumbling again*"
"You're not disturbing me. I'm home. What I find disturbing is that you're calling me and expecting a warm greeting. WE have nothing invested in this. Your lack of contact pretty well spelled out that it/we/this thing is done."
"Uhm, mumble mumble mumble... I have to go. Can I call you later?"
"No. I don't think that's advisable. I mean you can talk to me now. But I have had my fill of you always having to rush off without explanation. You're the one who called me after two weeks of virtually no contact. I don't need cloak and dagger mysterio drama. You cut me off."
"Uhm, OK. I ..."
"yep. This is good bye." click.
Asshat....haven't heard that one before. I assume it's a more polite version of assh*le. In the case of ARM, it seems very appropriate... what a silly man.
ReplyDeleteI don't know the official definition of an 'asshat', but it's safe to say it denotes one who has their head firmly up their posterior; therefore, wearing their ass as a hat.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mike. He is certainly a fool. I'd be the fool had I ignores the numerous signs to RUN! Run like the wind.
*Ruprecht applauds wildly, vows to never again incoherently mumble as it looks awkward, sounds dubious and dumb when committed*
ReplyDeleteMan, that's pretty messed up. Two weeks and no calling??? What in THE hell? Sorry things didn't pan out. I also hope he never calls you again.
ReplyDeleteThis kind of reminds me a little of that movie "True Lies" where Bill Paxton tries to act like a spy.
...or "Big Love", where Bill Paxton tries to act like a sane person.
ReplyDelete((hug)) I am sorry for this - I wish things were different.
ReplyDelete