Harmonized in deathly drone.

I have, at times, been known as a person with a cold stare. When people are approaching, I don’t really smile… I do more of an… opening my eyes wide, like most people do in that second before a car crash. We know what’s coming, so we mentally prepare. At work, some people call me Giggles. Because I don’t smile very much. In mydefense, it’s fucking WORK!! What’s there to smile about? I’d rather be drinking myself into a giddy stupor with friends and loved ones.

I have a wish though. I want a superpower. I want to have Death Ray Eyes. Eyes where I could stare at someone and make their head explode or burst into flames. Not that I’d do it constantly (although I might, if it turned out to be a lot of fun), but I definitely want it for… special cases.

Although a well-trained Stink Eye can be quite effective for intimidation purposes, as seen above, head combustion is certainly optimal.

In relationships, I have been badgered for shooting a cold stare across a room at my girlfriend, inciting fear or guilt or “what the fuck” feelings. But this is not enough. I need combustion to happen.

The big problem is that people fill me with rage. All the time. I’ve got a big problem with humans, and their apparent lack of awareness and/or consideration. Maybe this is unfair of me though. I worry that… well, no, I just have a sneaking suspicion that this is a strictly American thing. I do not know. Anyway… moving on…

For example, last night, I fed a cab driver $20 for a $12 fare. Not because I really wanted to give him a 66.6% tip for his brilliant driving, but because there was another lady in the car that gave him the exact fare. How the fuck do you make it well into your twenties and not understand that cabbies live off of tips?! If I had my Death Ray Eyes, I’d have just exploded this bitch’s head, rummaged through her belongings, and paid the driver his proper dues.

Or at work. I’ve already explained that I work in the produce department at a big stupid grocery store. This means I sling fruits and vegetables all day. Did you know that some people find it perfectly acceptable to put their greasy fingers all up in the grapes? Yeah, man, I’m serious. Pulling grapes out of one bag to put them in the other. Standing around, noshing on grapes, looking all stupid and American and entitled. No consideration for the next guy that might want to buy a bag of grapes that isn’t full of dandruff and boogers and fecal matter (because these are the things that [unless you wash your hands 20 times a day like me, and I’m sure even I’ve still got the grody happening] inevitably end up on all your fingers, whether you care to admit it or not, you dirty fucking humans). Again, folks. Death Ray Eyes? I would explode the heads of all of these in-store grape-digging bastards.

And the worst? Those fucking oh-so-clever-and-original people that are STILL saying, “You know what happens when you assume, right? Heh-heh… you make an ass out of you and me…” OH FUCK YOU, man! In a world where I have Death Ray Eyes, it would go more like this:

Douchebag: You know what happens when you assume, right?
Me: Yep. I know what happens… I EXPLODE YOUR FUCKING HEAD AND THEN HUM A CHEERFUL TUNE WHILE SCRUBBING YOUR CARAMELIZED FLESH OFF OF THE UPHOLSTERY, YOU FUCKING RETARD!!
And then head explodes in a glorious fit of smoke and spark and the smell of campfire.

Yeah, man. This is why I’m hopeful for the future. Ray-guns and shit. It won’t be supercool like it would be if I could do it with my naked eye, but I’ll take what I can get.

And I just thought of a reasonable, more hygenic alternate solution. Maybe someone could teach me a Judo Flip that will actually place a person’s head inside their own asshole? It would very much be a “taste of your own douchery” kind of thing, and I find this very acceptable. And this way, other people would see them coming… “Okay, this guy has his head up his own ass… I know what to expect now. En garde…” You feel me, dog? You feel me? (Yeah. I just called you “dog.” This is why I don’t usually write in the mornings.)

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About R. Spacely

Bastard.
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2 Responses to Harmonized in deathly drone.

  1. I am guilty of making it into my mid twenties without knowing you tipped cabbies…

    Because uh… Well… I never took/take cabs in America.
    I did in Ireland, but I they rarely accept your tips there. As far as NY goes, walking always worked for me, or the subway. I think I’ve ridden in a cab a handful of times.

    My bad. I guess my head will explode now.

    I am a horrible person.

    • Well you sorta have a reasonable excuse. And, at the very least, you have plenty of redeeming qualities that exonerate you from having your head explode everywhere.

      Don’t feel so down, Miss!

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