He’s Baaaaack!

I knew there would be repercussions.

It’s not as if I didn’t expect it. I knew when I did what I did that I would get in trouble for it. It was just a matter of time before the proverbial poo hit the metaphorical fan.

I just didn’t expect it so soon.

“Bub, you’re in big trouble.”

Now, before I tell you the next part I feel that I should take a moment to defend myself. See, I had just gotten out of the shower and was going through my dresser drawers looking for clothes. It was right after I put on my underwear when he jumped out from my sock drawer, wearing a blood-red hockey mask and holding a rolled up magazine like a knife. Keeping that image in mind, it’s perfectly understandable, and natural, for me to react the way I did. There’s nothing wrong with what happened next, and I’m sure most of you would have reacted the same way if you found yourself face to face with a very angry piece of bread wielding a paper knife.

That’s right. I screeched like a ring-tailed lemur in heat, and pooed in my tighty-whities.

“Bub, you’ve got to cut down on that caffeine.”

I ignored him and attempted to do the most dignified spread-legged waddle walk to the bathroom that I could so I could clean myself up.

“That really stinks, dorkface. What the hell did you have for dinner last night? Corn and onions?”
“Ha-freaking-ha, you little bastard. What the hell do you want?”
“I want to know what happened. We had a deal, remember?”

I finished cleaning up and went back to my dresser. Bread was making himself comfortable amongst my freshly washed socks, making sure crumbs from his body made their way into each and every pair. As I found another pair of Hanes, he opened his magazine and began flipping through the pages. I caught the mag’s title out of the corner of my eye. Play Dough. Figures.

“I know we had a deal, but you broke your part, so I thought it was only fair to break mine.”
“I did not!”
“Yes, you did. The deal was that I would design, create and host a site for you and in return I would never be bothered with your presence again.”
“Yeah, and?”
“Bread! You put Saran Wrap on my toilet! You also rearranged my CDs from alphabetical order to some sort of category based system. I don’t know where anything is and can’t find anything anymore. By the way, I don’t think there’s any need for filing most of my CDs under the ‘Crap’, ‘Pathetic’ and ‘Oh My God This Sucks’ categories.”
“Why not? That’s where that stuff belongs. And anyway, anybody could have done that. Maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe it was Miss Ex-Box or HoBiscuit. Did you ever think of that?”

I just glared at him in anger. He stared back with an evil, smug smile on his face. At this point I began thinking that perhaps I should spend a few hours every day in meditation so as to harness my as of yet latent psychic abilities. Perhaps I could, through hard work and years of practice, develop the psionic ability to cause people to spontaneously combust with a thought.

Or maybe, if I concentrated hard enough, I could toast a piece of bread…

“Are you alright, Bub? You’ve got a funny look on your face, like you’re constipated or something.”
“I’m fine. Just fine. Are we done yet?”
“Not by a long shot, Bub. I want my site back, and so do my millions of adoring fans.”
“You don’t have any fans.”
“I’ve got more fans that you!”
“Liar! You had no fans, and all the visitors that you did have left as soon as they realized you didn’t have anything to say if you weren’t making fun of me!”
“At least the people who visited my site didn’t need a barf bag. I can’t believe the colors you’re using. Isn’t your writing bad enough, must you also do the equivalent of visually raping your visitors with that pukey homage to a GAP/Old Navy commercial gone horribly wrong?”
“You take that back!”
“Not until I have a web site!”
“Not until you apologize!”
“I’ll apologize when I have a site!”
“You’ll have a site when I say so and not before!”
“Give me back my site!”
“Never!”

Breathing hard and red in the face, we both turned away from each other and took a moment and collect our thoughts. I knew he would never apologize, it just wasn’t in his nature. He was too proud, too angry, to ever admit he was wrong. I was resigned to living with his pranks and insults for the rest of my life, but it would be worth it. I wasn’t going to back down, not this time. I’d never give in. I’d be strong, I’d stand tall and become a martyr for persecuted and insulted Geeks everywhere. People would erect shrines in my name to honor me and…

“I’m sorry, Bub.”
“What?!?”
“I said, ‘I’m sorry’. I apologize for everything I did and I promise to be nicer to you in the future. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I really would like to have my site back.”

I was speechless.

“So, will you make my site for me?”
“Did you really just apologize?”
“Yes. Can I have my site back, please?”
“…”
“Please?”
“OK.”
“Promise?”
“Sigh. Promise. But you’ll have to wait until after we move into the new apartment.”
“That’s fine, Bub. Remember now, you promised.”
“Yeah. I know.”

Bread suddenly hopped out of the drawer and began walking out of the bedroom. As he passed me by, he suddenly lashed out and kicked me in the shin.

“Ow!”
“Sucker! I knew watching all that girly Oprah crap would come in handy one day.”
“Hey! You said you’d be nicer to me!”
“I said I’d be nicer to you in the future, you moron. This is now. And right now, I’m still going to treat you like the chump you are. Schmuck.”

He left the room laughing as I hopped up in down in pain clutching my throbbing ankle. That bastard had gotten me to promise to bring back his site and he hadn’t promised a damn thing. Clever, evil, bastard. It wasn’t until I looked in my sock drawer that I realized just how bad my life was going to be.

“Bread! This had better be mayonnaise on my socks, you sick bastard! Do you hear me?!? Do you? Bread!”