Reposting this for Meg & our shared love of Gaelic/Celtic culture…
“C’mon man, let’s go.”
“Hold on, I need to finish this.” He sat with his face a few inches from the computer screen.
“What are you reading?”
“This blog I really enjoy.”
“A blog? Aren’t you the one always preaching about the dumbing down of society?”
“Yes, what’s your point?”
“It’s a blog! Anyone can write one of those. There’s no standard of review. Hell, there’s no editing.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“C’mon, let’s go. You can read this later.”
“It’ll just be a minute. It’ll be faster if you shut up and let me read.”
“You don’t even know this person.”
“I do, too. She writes great stuff.”
“She? Hold on, now. She?”
“I know you. You’re probably in love with this fictional chick.”
“I really like her, yeah.”
“She’s not real! It’s the internet!”
“She’s real. When you write like this, you have to be real.”
“She’s probably a he. An old, bald pervert who gets off on tricking schmucks like you.”
“Why do you have to be so hateful?”
“Let’s go! We are going to be late!”
“I don’t care.”
“Just leave me alone. Let me finish this.”
“I’m getting upset.”
“I don’t give a shit.” He went back to his reading.
I picked up the Shillelagh he had leaning in the corner. I started trying to twirl it. “I should join the circus.”
“Put that down before you break something.”
“Why do you have this?”
“I like it.”
“Are you going to be like this all night?”
“Will you, for the love of God, shut the FUCK up?!”
“I’m going to break your computer.”
“I will kill you.”
“You’re a douche. No, you won’t.”
“Put it down, now.”
“Not until you put the computer away. Let’s go.”
“Seriously, stop spinning it.”
“This is me saying no.”
He got up and reached for the Shillelagh. I was mid-spin when his hand entered the arc. I lost control of it. It went end over end up into the air. I watched in horror as it went straight for the laptop. I tried to reach out and grab it. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. I could see his eyes expand as we both tried to nab it before it landed. We failed. The Shillelagh came down on the keyboard.
“Shit!” I grabbed my head as the little plastic keys went flying. “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t even look at me. He just stared down at his computer.
“Dude, we can get it fixed.”
“It’ll be okay.”
“Let’s not do this tonight. Just go.”
I turned and left without saying another word. I felt bad for messing up his computer, but his calmness was unnerving. I wish he would have yelled and punched me. That would have at least made me feel better. I walked back to my car and thought about it. I was frustrated at myself for my actions, but I was also frustrated with his inaction. It was a bad night all around. We’d be okay after a while, but it might take some time. He loved that computer. It wasn’t the best or the newest, but he loved it.
Now I was faced with a moral dilemma. Should I still go to the bar?