I’m feel terrible.
It started Saturday when I jumped all over Randy.
Instead of saying, “We’ve been startin’ this gig at 7pm for almost a year.”
I said, “What do you mean 7:30? Your mind must be goin’ dumbass. It’s always been 7.”
He started to argue, paused, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Fine. We’ll start right now for all I care.”
Less than a minute later I caught him tellin’ the drummer, “It’s always been 7:30. Never 7.”
That’s when I pulled out my cell, stuck the screen in his face and said, “See, in April it was 7.”
Instead of saying, “This text was posted in February. And it’s about your water bill.”
He said, “Alright. Alright. Unlike you, I’m not perfect.”
I thought it would feel good switchin’ things up. Y’know, puttin’ his asshole shoes on for a while. Kickin’ him when he’s down. Screamin’, “Now, y’know how it feels.”
And, now, he knows how it feels. And he knows I’m the one who kicked him. And that’s all he knows.
He doesn’t have a clue.