“You aren’t listening to me, are you?” (Angry)
“What?” (Too loud)
“You never listen to me, do you?” (Angrier)
“I could drop dead and you wouldn’t lift a finger to help me, would you?” (Kind of a simmering cold anger that is even worse.)
“What?” (Like a freight train, brutal and unstoppable.)
There is a magical kind of drama, and drama is such an inadequate word, to a couple that have been married and lasted long enough to grow REALLY old together to the point of hatred.
It is awesome to behold.
They hate each other, they really do.
But divorce is not even in their vocabulary, not a chance.
Love, honor, cherish, till death do they part.
The only thing left is the Till Death part.
And they are both waiting, nay HOPING, that the other dies soon.
It is a vile and beautiful thing to witness.
She looks a lot like the Crypt keeper from that old horror show. (Google it, I’ll wait.)
Got the visual?
He has a look of permanent terror on his face.
He has been seated the whole time I have been observing him and the missus, but I am willing to bet he takes 2 inch steps when he walks.
We are a weaker generation that we think Fuck You is the ultimate verbal attack.
There is a true gladiator’s feel to the skill of a true Fuck You conversation.
I am in awe.
This pair of wrinkled old warriors are lions, to be feared and respected.
This kind of fight is not a sprint, its a marathon and you cross the finish line when you opponent keels over.
I am in a dark place right now, and its a brutal place, scary and forbidding that makes you look at the beauty of a long time marriage and then stew in these kind of seriously vile thoughts.
And salvation is just around the corner, in the form of coffee.
Hot and fresh and available for just pennies.
Live is good, sun is out, birds are chirping, and the adorable old couple could not be cuter.
I love caffeine as a drug, it can fill the tank in a ridiculously short amount of time.
Addiction, with cream and two splendas.
And then they try to chip away at my drug induced Dome of Solitude.
“Did you hear what I said?” (Its him being angry this time.)
“What?” (She is truly playing this card.)
“I just told you something!” (Angrier.)
“What?” (This is a masterstroke of the fuck you genre of hot mess replies.)
“Ah, you are to old to talk to!” (He even waved his hand at her in dismissal. I almost shit myself trying to keep from laughing.)
“What?” (Now I KNOW they are just fucking with me. You could see this scene playing itself out as if it was written on a page.)
But it has not touched my euphoria.
And I am leaving before I am sucked into the vortex of negativity.
Because if you ungrateful shits know anything about me, you know that I am all about being positive.
I try to keep the bad stuff from staining my Disney-like purity and innocence.
Outside, there is a breeze, on the chilly side, but the sun is out. Low 70’s with a wind chill.
I am dressed in Southern California winter wear.
Shorts, running shoes, and a hooded winter coat.
Mmmmm good coffee.
(Here is how twisted up my head is. I have been laughing for the last 5 minutes because of the line immediately above this one. All of that shit, then “Mmmmm, good coffee.” Once again, it occurs to me that this blog is a lot of the time, just for me.)