‘Why Don’t You Crawl Back Under the Bridge You Came From’

That sounds like an ugly thing to say doesn’t it? Yeah, I think so too but it was said yesterday. Let me explain.

I stopped off at Dick’s Sporting Good to pick up a few things I needed for my gym. Specifically, a new jump rope and a cushioned pad so that the hard cement doesn’t continue to wreck my knees and ankles. If you want to stay conditioned enough to move around the ring, jump roping is a must. But I’ve digressed.

I walk into the place and immediately hear yelling from a man with a gruff voice using every profanity he could recall; and made up other ones to use in place when his recollection failed. This isn’t something you see every day. Unfortunately — or fortunately, I haven’t decided yet, I had to swing a right at the door in order to get back to the area I needed to shop. This man was going on and on about a damaged sleeping bag and how “they” sold him a “shitty product” and plenty more of those kind of things. He dropped f-bombs at least a dozen times that I heard, and I had not been in there longer than just 30 seconds.

As I get to the front of the counters, I notice that he is saying all of this to a woman. This lady’s voice was cracking whenever he gave her a moment for a response, her chin was quivering, and she was visibly nervous. Well, that set me off some kind of good. If I can speak plainly, it pissed me off. So I slowed my pace just in case. She told the bum that she had to go speak with her manager. As she was walking off he continued his rant and even called her a f—— b—-.

He pissed me off. The way he looked pissed me off. The way he dressed pissed me off. The way his gruff, throaty, ruined voice sounded pissed me off. The way he was standing there pissed me off. He saw me watching, and propped his elbow on the counter and took to staring at me with a pair of walleyes.

I asked if I could help him. He said, “I don’t know, can you?”

I told him that depends, I reckon. He said, “on what?”

“If  you want a real fixing or not.” I told him I thought he had a loud obnoxious mouth and I thought he was a coward for talking to a woman like that.

He responded that he didn’t give a f—- and would cuss whoever he f—— wanted.

I told him he wouldn’t cuss me like that. And he didn’t. He just continued to stare at me with those large marbles of his.

I told him when he got his sleeping bag back to do everyone a favor and crawl back under the bridge he came from. That’s when the manager came and he asked us to stop. So I did.

But it got me to thinking. Let’s say he would have cussed me or gotten aggressive with me. There is little doubt in my mind that I would have whipped circles around his tubby butt. I mean I could have wrecked him inside of two seconds. I would have enjoyed it too. But I probably would have been arrested along with him, booked along with him, and fined along with him. Would all of that had been worth it? Probably not.

Sometimes I wish I still lived back in that country town where I would have been given a medal and day off from work for whipping such a man as that.

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2 thoughts on “‘Why Don’t You Crawl Back Under the Bridge You Came From’

  1. What an asshole…
    People like that are so irritating, it makes me want to punch them, a straight right to the face or a liver punch that makes them throw up. And I’m usually not an aggressive person but, damn…I guess there are exceptions.

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