I hate to use my cell-phone in the store. Hate it. I always tell my wife, "Honey, I'm being the dick on the phone at the grocery store. I'll call you back..." Sometimes you have to though, right? And there's always a smart-ass, while I'm on the phone, nudging the doughy bitch beside him and pointing at me while I'm talking.
"Can you hear me now?," he snickers. Like he's a comedian. Like he's Louis C.K. or Richard Pryor. Like it's the most original punchline of the century, new and gleaming and completely novel.
"Can you hear me now?" Chortle, snort, guffaw. Like he's George fucking Carlin, master of satiric wit.
This is for you, the insipid and rude fuck at the grocery store. Read my words and heed them.
Yes, Gallagher, I can hear you. I'm on the fucking phone, you rude son-of-a-bitch. You can make fun of me all you want for being technologically up to date, Hamish, you Amish wannabe with your Pillsbury bride, but you're gonna wish you had a cell phone so you can call 911 when I'm beating you to death with a frozen loaf of garlic bread! I'm not on the phone in my car. I'm not causing a wreck. Hell, I'm not even in the checkout line. Back off.
You just made my list, pal. You know the list of people you keep in your head? The ones you're gonna go after first on the day you finally crack and buy an AK-47? Well... Maybe you don't have a list, Shecky, but I do, so maybe you shouldn't fuck with me, huh? 'Cause you just made the Top Fucking Ten! Right between the telemarketer who can't read the no-call list and my ex-wife's divorce lawyer! Howdya like them apples, huh Hamish? Can you hear ME now? Huh? Can you!?!
OK. I feel better now.