EvilGuy Goes to a Bar. Becoming a Minor Asshole

Maybe 'asshole' is too grandiose a term to use. Maybe 'irritant' or 'piss-ant' or even 'rapscallion' would be more apt. Anyways... I was taken to a going-away party held by some of my guy friends (no girls allowed). Little did they know that EvilGuy went in my place.

This was after EvilGuy spent the afternoon playing the video game Grand Theft Auto III. (By the way... for those of you who don't follow such games, Grand Theft Auto III is one of the most violent on the market. You carry-out various gang-related mayhem, often involving cars. Drive-by shootings, carjackings and other such social malfeasance. In the game, one has the option of soliciting hookers on street corners; your cash level goes-down as the hooker pleasures you in your car... then, you can kick her out of your car, beat the hell-out of her with a baseball bat and get your money back. Blood will spray from her visage with each satisfying 'whack'. EvilGuy spent about fifteen minutes beating-up, machine-gunning and running-over every female passer-by he spotted. Grin. He loves video games.)
It's kind of funny: parents are always condemning video games, violent movies or loud music as corrupting the kids. In Greece during the days of the great philosophers, parents blamed the corruption of their youth on Socrates and his nasty habit of asking questions about the world. Regardless of the day and age, if the kids ever get 'corrupted', the parents automatically look-around and shout "who's to blame for this?!" and after a pause "no, besides us!"

Anyway, the aforementioned going-away party was to be held in a large sports-bar downtown. This was one of the more popular places with at least a dozen pool tables. The place is typically crowded, with the haze of tobacco smoke hanging heavy in the air. Sports memorabilia all over the walls, a dozen large-screen TVs showing every possible athletic endeavour on the planet, wood-paneled everything. Amusingly droll.

EvilGuy surveyed the room. This was obviously a guy-oriented bar. And... there were plenty of pretty and no-so-pretty twentysomething women there. Ugh. He could feel the bile rising in his gullet. God, it's like the mere sight of these things gives him a stomach-full of red-hot coals. He was disgusted- I mean, really grossed out by these slimy trollops. As if they had heaps of millipedes and maggots falling-out of their ears or something. As best he could, he averted his eyes from seeing these foul, screeching things.
Why can't there be a males-only bar? Well, not a gay bar, but a bar where there are no women allowed. A bar where guys can go to escape their venomous shrieking. Just one. And Hooters doesn't count for obvious reasons.

"My God." He said to himself. "I don't even regard American women as people anymore. I see them as barely-tolerable, vagina-dentata-having blights that I'm required to put-up with somehow. Why do I want them to feel pain? Why does it feel so damn good to hate them so much?" He shook his head. He just didn't know why anymore. And he didn't care, either. He just wanted to take a welding torch and burn the insolence out of their eyes.

All the Beautiful Things Must DIE!

EvilGuy gets a few drinks inside him and he can't play pool worth shit. While his male friends were jockeying for position around the pool-tables, EvilGuy decided to sit-out the next game. He went-up to the crowded bar in order to get a fresh beer.

As EvilGuy stood next to the bar, he tried is best to ignore the gaggle of women in their mid-30's standing immediately to his left. They were being louder than EvilGuy appreciated- obviously they'd had a bit to drink.

Woman One was farthest from EvilGuy. She was about five feet tall with black hair. Woman Two was standing in the middle. She was about six feet tall, with blond hair. Woman Three was standing closest to him, and she was mid-range height with brown hair. Ungh. You'd need to get real drunk before they could be considered barely fuckable. Even with brown paper bags over their heads. Jesus, even breathing the same air as them felt like he was sniffing ripe cow-droppings and carrion.

As the bartender handed EvilGuy his beer-glass, Woman Two lost her balance and groped-out to steady herself against the bar- knocking against EvilGuy's arm, spilling part of his drink. Okay, that does it. Irritated, EvilGuy tapped the shoulder of Woman Three; he'd have preferred to get her attention by punching her in the back of the head. With brass-knuckles.

"Tell the syphilitic ho standing next to you that if she's going to fall on me and spill my drink, she doesn't have a chance with me tonight." EvilGuy yelled close to her ear, over the ambient dull roar of the bar.

She turned to look at EvilGuy with a raised eyebrow. He transferred his glass into his free hand and demonstrably shook beer-foam off his wet shirtsleeve with visible irritation. Then she turned to Woman Two and yelled in her ear. "He said he wants to touch your breasts!"

"Pardon me?!" Snorted EvilGuy at Woman Three, barely able to contain his rage. Don't toy with me, worm! I'm 2 seconds away from splitting your head-open like a fresh pumpkin, feasting upon the sweet sweet innards and fucking your eye-socket! "Do you kiss your child with that filthy mouth of yours?"

"She does!" Woman Two laughed loudly. "I've seen her do it!"

"Yes..." EvilGuy proclaimed in a loud voice to anyone within earshot. "It's a shame that women of such low-breeding are allowed to breed!" Woman Two laughed at the joke. Woman Three jabbed her finger at EvilGuy.

"She didn't fall on you!" Protested Woman Three.

"She sure did! The tart is just too drunk off her ass to notice! She should keep her hands to herself."

"In your dreams!" Woman Two squeaked.

"Dream, ma'am?" EvilGuy laughed. "More like a nightmare!"

Her face crumpled-up into a sneer... she did this remarkably quickly and efficiently. As if she had a well-honed talent of quickly having her face crumple-up into sneers.

"Hey, if you're going to make fun of my friend, then you can just go away!" Woman Three continued.

"Chill-out, skirt!" EvilGuy scoffed. "If you can't have a sense of humor, then what the hell good is your life anyway?"

By now, Woman One had taken notice, walked-up behind EvilGuy and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi." She held-out her hand. "I'm Marcie." He looked at her hand. He wondered if cancerous lesions would boil-up all over his arm if he touched her.

"Hi, Marcie. I'll tell you what?" EvilGuy pumped her hand twice and smirked, while picturing the image of slitting her face-open with a rusty scalpel, body-checking her to the floor and dumping a pail full of tacks over her as she rolled on the ground in agony. "If you buy me a drink tonight, I'll let you kiss me!"

She looked surprised. Woman One leaned-in to Woman Three. Is Woman Three the pack-leader or something?

"Omahgaw, he just said that if I get him a drink, he'll let me kiss him!"

Woman Three turned back to EvilGuy. "Leave my friends alone!"

"Chill, babe! She's a big girl, she can take care of herself. She doesn't need your frigging protection." You know, I've got a boning knife at home which is very small, light and flexible- perfect for eviscerating someone in an alley while she's stumbling back to her car. Let's play a game of 'Bleed 'n Scream', shall we?

"You hear that?" Woman One laughed. "He said I'm a 'big girl'!"

"Big girl?" EvilGuy looked her body up and down. "That you are!"

Woman Three poked EvilGuy on the shoulder with some force. "Hey, stop insulting my friend!"

EvilGuy rubbed a finger across his upper lip. "Have you thought about getting a few cc's of collagen right about here? You need it."

She put her hands on her hips. "Oh, is that right?"

"Yeah. It'll hide your overbite." All three women's faces registered stunned shock.

EvilGuy turned on his heel and walked-back to the pool-tables, laughing.

Notice what happened?

Their vagina walls had to be lined with inward-pointing thorns, but EvilGuy got their attention. He had the conversational initiative. They were reacting to him. It wasn't positive attention, but it was far more attention than NiceGuy would've gotten from any of them by saying something uselessly polite. But you get the point.

EvilGuy was being an asshole. And they were captivated by it. Marcie introduced herself, even. EvilGuy shook his head; why the hell would anyone consciously introduce themselves to someone who's being an overt asshole? Doesn't it make more sense to avoid the overt asshole? Women can be so sickening; they ask for whatever trouble they get themselves into. They deserve whatever pain they get. Incinerate 'em and send 'em all back to hell.

That'd be a waste of perfectly good fire, though. Why the hell can't murder be declared legal for just three minutes?! It might be fun to try a real-life version of Grand Theft Auto III. Damn the law.

But nay: women- can't live with 'em. Can't kill 'em.

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"All those years you never knew,
All those things that I could do.
I keep them in a hidden place,
So I can rub them in your face..." Snake River Conspiracy, "Breed".

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