I got punched in the jaw yesterday … for no reason.

If misery loves company, he or she brought the damned carnival.

Right now, a clan of clowns are dancing in their oversized shoes and goofy green wigs. It’s not a pretty sight.

Because they’re not wearing anything else.

The compulsive writers living inside of me are putting my fingers to work.

Here’s a disclaimer before you continue. I am not lonely. In fact, I love this solitude. It’s not so bad. I do, however, feel as if there’s a sign that says “LONER” hanging over my head. Do I look the part? I haven’t shaved my head for a week, it’s in that weird fuzz phase that nobody wants to look at twice. It could potentially be the reason I don’t land a job. Seriously, it’s fugly (f**king+ugly).

Last night I went to V5 with a coworker. Our plan was to leave at 12:15. We arrived at 11:30.

In 45 minutes we were to avoid the following at all costs:

1. A fight/altercation
2. Drunkenness
3. Talk to girls

OK first of all, 3 was a joke. Calm down.

I’m outside saying hello and catching up with an old friend, goofing off and showing off fancy footwork. No I don’t dance, I rap. We were talking about how he doesn’t ever pick fights – but if approached how he wouldn’t back down. I’m sure he was joking, he’s probably the most nonviolent person I know (from my past seven-and-half times I’ve chilled with him).

His friend then stepped up and got into my face, asking me in an aggressive voice if I thought it was funny.

I nonchalantly said no, it is not.

He picked and picked some more, the apples off this tree of non- confrontational goodness.

Ha. And he pesters again for the seventh time, “but I think it’s funny.”

I retort, “ooh I see.”

And voila, BOP.

He lands. A solid cheap shot to the left side of my face, right in the jaw. This shot was cheaper than Aristocrat vodka.

And I stand there, almost wanting to say “Jesus loves you,” but I stop myself from going that far.

This drunkard, he’s hammered. He has no conscience. He’s still trying to swing.

Begging me to fight back. Straight begging like I’m holding diamonds in my hands.

I can’t fight. I apologize and say no. Sorry I can’t accommodate your needs, sir.

Then it hits me (not another cheap shot.)

There has to be no better revenge. …

Than prayer.


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