TheBearJew
04-18-2011, 11:54 AM
Something happened to me today and I felt like writing a story about the topic. I churned this out in about a half hour, so it may not be great, but I think it's strong material regardless. Thanks for all comments.
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In retrospect, I should have thrown it away myself. Maybe the guy was right: I was just trying to impress my friends. Part of me isn’t really sure anymore. It all just happened so fast that the underlying cause behind my actions is unclear even to me. Still, I know this; my comments were not merely conceited attempts to boast my moral prowess. I know that I actually believe in what I said.
“Hey buddy!” I called out to him on the busy sidewalk, foolishly assuming he’d be the only one to turn around. Noticing that I’d unintentionally caught the attention of a few guys walking by, I lifted my finger, pointing at him.
He seemed like your typical rich douchebag. He wore brown khaki cargo shorts and a polo shirt, a beaded necklace around his neck. He wore a fancy silver watch, and sported a tattoo on his lower arm and upper back. He seemed shocked that someone would call him out, ripping him outside of his comfortable bubble.
“Yeah, you.” I said, first noticing my friends apprehensive glares. “You dropped this,” I said, handing him a half eaten sandwich in a plastic Ziploc bag.
“What do you want from me?” he snarled back aggressively, clearly annoyed that I’d bothered him. I stayed calm and merely reiterated my statement “You dropped this.” I held out the sandwich towards him again. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to. I mean, there’s no way someone would drop something this valuable on purpose.”
“Dude, it’s just garbage,” he responded, not perceiving what I felt was blatantly clear sarcasm.
“I realize that. Next time,” I said, again handing the sandwich to him. “Try to utilize a garbage can.”
Once could tell that he knew he was in the wrong, yet he seemed incapable of comprehending my actions. “*******,” he muttered, grabbing the sandwich as he walked away.
I was proud of myself. I’d taken a stand, however trivial it seemed, against the everyday *******. My friend Brad quickly dissolved the cloud I’d been hovering on. “Why does everything have to be a scene with you, man?”
I wasn’t surprised with his reaction. My friends didn’t care much about politics or the environment. They knew about the issues, but didn’t really act on it much more than chiming in with their thoughts on a particular issue when it came up in conversation. Still, I’d hoped for some support, as I felt pretty good about what I’d done.
“What do you mean? That guy’s clearly a prick who doesn’t give a **** about anyone but himself. The kind of guy who needs someone to tell him off once in a while.”
“Aw, come on man. We all could use someone to tell us off once in a while. For all you know, that guy’s a goddamn soup kitchen volunteer.”
We dropped the discussion there, but I continued thinking about it, and was rather emotionally involved with it. A few days passed, and my friends had basically forgotten about the whole thing. I hadn’t. It got stuck on me, and I was pissed that my friends hadn’t backed me up. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just stood up for the right thing. Should we just let those things slide?
Anyway, I was sure I’d done the right thing, but my friends and I didn’t really talk about things that deep. Feelings and such. We were in high school, far from emotionally mature, and our main topics of discussion were girls and weed.
We were sitting on Brad’s couch, watching some typical high school movie. These two guys I didn’t know, friends of his, had walked over and were talking about how pointless these types of movies are.
“Man, I mean they always end the same way. The main character causes everyone to realize that they’re all more alike than they thought, and that it’s alright to not like what’s cool.”
I laughed. “Yeah, at least they have the sense to cast hot girls.”
We continued watching. One of the kids in the movie was gay, and came out of the closet in the middle of the movie. They showed how difficult he had it coming out, and all that jazz.
“Man, what a fag.” I knew it wasn’t the right thing to say, but it just sort of slipped. One of the kids gave me a dirty look, and the room went silent.
Brad ended the silence. “Yo, he didn’t really mean it negatively.” I looked down at my shoes, embarrassed. I didn’t mean it negatively, but you know, it just sort of slipped.
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In retrospect, I should have thrown it away myself. Maybe the guy was right: I was just trying to impress my friends. Part of me isn’t really sure anymore. It all just happened so fast that the underlying cause behind my actions is unclear even to me. Still, I know this; my comments were not merely conceited attempts to boast my moral prowess. I know that I actually believe in what I said.
“Hey buddy!” I called out to him on the busy sidewalk, foolishly assuming he’d be the only one to turn around. Noticing that I’d unintentionally caught the attention of a few guys walking by, I lifted my finger, pointing at him.
He seemed like your typical rich douchebag. He wore brown khaki cargo shorts and a polo shirt, a beaded necklace around his neck. He wore a fancy silver watch, and sported a tattoo on his lower arm and upper back. He seemed shocked that someone would call him out, ripping him outside of his comfortable bubble.
“Yeah, you.” I said, first noticing my friends apprehensive glares. “You dropped this,” I said, handing him a half eaten sandwich in a plastic Ziploc bag.
“What do you want from me?” he snarled back aggressively, clearly annoyed that I’d bothered him. I stayed calm and merely reiterated my statement “You dropped this.” I held out the sandwich towards him again. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to. I mean, there’s no way someone would drop something this valuable on purpose.”
“Dude, it’s just garbage,” he responded, not perceiving what I felt was blatantly clear sarcasm.
“I realize that. Next time,” I said, again handing the sandwich to him. “Try to utilize a garbage can.”
Once could tell that he knew he was in the wrong, yet he seemed incapable of comprehending my actions. “*******,” he muttered, grabbing the sandwich as he walked away.
I was proud of myself. I’d taken a stand, however trivial it seemed, against the everyday *******. My friend Brad quickly dissolved the cloud I’d been hovering on. “Why does everything have to be a scene with you, man?”
I wasn’t surprised with his reaction. My friends didn’t care much about politics or the environment. They knew about the issues, but didn’t really act on it much more than chiming in with their thoughts on a particular issue when it came up in conversation. Still, I’d hoped for some support, as I felt pretty good about what I’d done.
“What do you mean? That guy’s clearly a prick who doesn’t give a **** about anyone but himself. The kind of guy who needs someone to tell him off once in a while.”
“Aw, come on man. We all could use someone to tell us off once in a while. For all you know, that guy’s a goddamn soup kitchen volunteer.”
We dropped the discussion there, but I continued thinking about it, and was rather emotionally involved with it. A few days passed, and my friends had basically forgotten about the whole thing. I hadn’t. It got stuck on me, and I was pissed that my friends hadn’t backed me up. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just stood up for the right thing. Should we just let those things slide?
Anyway, I was sure I’d done the right thing, but my friends and I didn’t really talk about things that deep. Feelings and such. We were in high school, far from emotionally mature, and our main topics of discussion were girls and weed.
We were sitting on Brad’s couch, watching some typical high school movie. These two guys I didn’t know, friends of his, had walked over and were talking about how pointless these types of movies are.
“Man, I mean they always end the same way. The main character causes everyone to realize that they’re all more alike than they thought, and that it’s alright to not like what’s cool.”
I laughed. “Yeah, at least they have the sense to cast hot girls.”
We continued watching. One of the kids in the movie was gay, and came out of the closet in the middle of the movie. They showed how difficult he had it coming out, and all that jazz.
“Man, what a fag.” I knew it wasn’t the right thing to say, but it just sort of slipped. One of the kids gave me a dirty look, and the room went silent.
Brad ended the silence. “Yo, he didn’t really mean it negatively.” I looked down at my shoes, embarrassed. I didn’t mean it negatively, but you know, it just sort of slipped.