Monday, 12 February 2007

I hope it shrivels up and falls off.

I’m talking to you – yes, you! – turn the doof-doof down and you might actually be able to hear me, unless the gallon of gel from your stupid-looking tiger-striped mohawk has dripped into your ears and collected in the space where normal people like to keep their brains. Get out of that crap-heap you so lovingly call a car, and kneel in abjection before your elders and indisputable betters. Aw, got someone’s discarded chewing gum on your best Kappa pants, did you? Not to worry, you can always steal some more tomorrow. Now, repeat after me – I’ll talk nice and slowly so your primitive troglodyte brain can keep up:


Have you got that, cockhead? I know some of those words may be hard for someone who dropped out to pursue a career as social arse-pimple to understand, so please let me know if you need any part of that sentence explained to you. I have a nephew half your age who will be happy to oblige.

You see, Logan – or is it Ty? – what you did to me on Friday night as I walked innocently to my car is called sexual harassment, and women don’t like it. Oh, I know you met your last girlfriend Taylah that way – she giggled and gave you a blowjob in exchange for a cigarette and as many rum-and-midoris as she could drink – but that didn’t last very long now, did it? Not after she discovered your best mate Jaydinn has a flame-decaled panel van with a waterbed in the back. The sudden ending of your four-hour relationship was a shock, but you’ll always have the urine-soaked alleyway to remind you of the top-class roots a super-stud like you can pull.

Anyway, back to what I was saying, you worthless little turd; I didn’t catch what your friend shouted out the window – no doubt those atavistic genes render him incapable of articulating recognisable speech sounds – but I heard what you said, though naturally at the time I pretended I hadn’t. And while, somewhere in your snot-mired little brain, you may have thought yelling crudities to people on the street is a harmless bit of fun and a way to prove how virile you are, it’s not. It’s not funny. It’s not flattering. It’s not enjoyable. It’s the same old Scheiße women have to endure everywhere they go. Yeah, that’s right – you’re not the first tool who’s come up with the clever idea of accosting inoffensive women for your own amusement!

But here’s where you really f***ed up, boyo. I had my children with me. And when you confront me with moronic comments carrying latent threats of sexual assault and rape, a wariness of which women keep in the back of their minds always thanks to dickwanks like you, I get defensive. When I’m reminded that, should you choose to, you could easily overpower me on this darkened, near-empty street, because that’s what Mr. Lonie did once when we were play-wrestling and I realised with a chill my assumption I could resist a rapist was wrong, I feel afraid. Threaten my children by extension, and my protective mother instincts combine with my anger over every piece of crap I’ve had to deal with from your brotherhood of shite-brains, into one white-hot ball of scumbag arse-kicking, ball-crushing, penis-ripping, fight-to-the-death fury.



Nellie said...

LOL Lonie, you sound quite cross!!!

Why doesn't the federal government use some initiative and legislate to sterilise vile bogan trash at birth, and thus save us all from their hideousness?


I was offended on Friday also by some stupid small-dicked fuckwit who I sprung peering in the windows of my car while I was buying fish for dinner at Stringray. As I tried to ignore him while strapping kids into the car (your previous post failed to mention the morons who don't bother to slow down when you have the traffic-side door open and are struggling with an over-tired 2 year old who refuses to sit in her seat) he began ranting about my "fucking posh car, bitch".

My daughter doesn't know those words, but she's intelligent enough to sense the threatening nature of them, and of course became more difficult, screaming at 50 million decibels (approx) to the delight of aforementioned fuckwit who continued to verbally assault me.

I must 'fess up Lonie; I too am confrontation-averse, as well as a little nervous fronting up to unpredictable illiterates who clearly have a grudge against the entire world.

So I drove off wordlessly, struggling to control the anger and frustration felt at my realisation he had won the stand-off.

Ah well, he may have won that battle, but I got the last laugh; I got to drive away in my nice Audi while he staggered around the corner to board the next north-bound Metro bus. Au revior, loser.

foodkitty said...

gosh, cock-head AND arse-pimple. You were very cross.

Lonie, I'm sorry but my inner psychotherapist can't resist a bit of desktop diagnosis. Two rantposts in a row, straight after the one about returning to work??

Anonymous said...

... and breathe.... and calm!@"

Next group session is Thursday see you then!"

Lonie Polony said...

Aah, I feel much better now. Cathartic outlet, and all that. Yes, I was just a tad angry after that incident and as I was writing that post, hence the swearing which I don't really do anymore.

Nellie - that sounds awful, what an A-hole that guy is! I know what you mean about your daughter, that's partly what made me angry too, that mine had to be exposed to something she couldn't quite understand but still recognises as wrong. I think in such cases it's best to ignore, otherwise it only feeds their need to provoke a response.

Foodkitty - Lol, you're probably right. I don't think I'm very emotionally complex, irritants=irritability. Also a lot of annoying events happening all together.

Mutley - you're running counselling sessions? Eek! ;p

hazelblackberry said...

"Penis ripping". Now that's a deterrent if ever I've heard one.

Pete Aldin said...

I'm glad to say that all men are not like this, but I'm sure it only takes one to ruin your day ... well, that's kinda obvious given your post!

Hell, I'm a bloke and I'm pissed off at this guy, not the least because your kids were there.

Freedom of speech has it's limits. Wouldn't it have been great if he'd crashed into a park car while enagaging in this behaviour? Where's poetic justice when you need it?

Lonie Polony said...

Lol Pete! Nothing makes me feel better like fantasies of revenge ;)