3 When I was a kid, we were living in Florida at the time, my dad got picked on by some redneck at a fucking Krispy Kreme. This was back in the 1960’s. In the deep South. If you looked smarter than the average redneck back then, you got picked on. What the redneck did not know was that my dad knew mixed martial arts before the expression MMA was invented. The redneck went down.
Today some rude jerk said something to me in a very public place that was, well, rude. In front of my son. He could have expressed his feelings in a more gentlemanly manner. I got rude right back. This guy probably had 40 pounds on me, but I didn’t give a shit. I was actually itching for a fight.
Son, I apologize for letting my emotions get the better of me. Even though I could have beaten that asshole if we actually did end up tangling, I had already lost by losing my temper to begin with.
3 Responses to “An Apology To My Son”
The Fly
You should have cordially injected him with cancer, like I always do. Ten years later the guy is in chemo and will remember picking on the wrong gentleman.
fake amish
nice human condition post. good stuff.
Mr. Partridge
Good post, thanks