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You know, there are times when you see the bullet coming for your gourd and you just stand there.
Yeah you watch this piece of lead fly through the air and level off at the top of your face. You stare at it. It's not all that fast, you can duck, but you don't. Do you know why? You disbelieve that something is heading your way that can and will knock the brains out of your fucking body. You are in disbelief.
That's what I was in for two days, while the bullet was streaming through the air. I'm sitting here in my room and working on the Internet when the old man next door starts pulling on the Internet connection again in between the walls. I see the cable moving about but I just forget about it. It's the bullet flying through the air. Apparently it will find it's mark. This dumb fuck will indeed take a wire clipper and snap it in two. Why? I don't know. He's crazy.
What is up with him? I don't know, but I steer clear of his fucked up ass to keep from kicking loose two or three of his ribs. And when you ask him what is going on in his mind, he tells you sweetly, "I don't know." I want to say, well you'll know what THIS feels like, and sock him on right in the tooth. Every night when he's putting his teeth in his mouth he'll say, I don't know about that too.
But he's an old dumb fucking man. I swear though I wish there was at least one power cable in there for him to cut...just one, and I would laugh my ass off hearing a pop and then a sizzle in the other room. So let me tell you about my experience. My Internet goes down, and I pull my cable out and well and true, there it is, cut. So I knock on the door and I ask, old man, did you just cut my Internet connection, and he says, "Oh yes, I'm fixing my cable." Your fucking cable? I look around. There's no cable box, no cable wires except for those he pulled out of the wall. He's standing in the middle of the room looking like an assault victim. I swear to God, he was standing there begging for me to rearrange his face like a jigsaw puzzle.
I walk out, now thoroughly pissed. If I don't leave that fucking room, I swore to myself to kill him in it. Cussing and screaming, I get dressed and stomp downstairs to complain, only to find that the offices are all closed. All of them. What the fuck is this? I go back upstairs and get my coat. I'm going down to the Time Warner store two blocks away and have them send over a repairman. I'm dressing up in my coat and hat when there is a knock on the door. It's Ivan "What's going on with the Internet?" I show him the dilemma. "Well, there's no use going to Time Warner today. Today is Sunday."
What the fuck? I lost a fucking day? What the fuck!! No wonder Ass Dad chose today instead of the other two days of fucking with the wire to cut it. Because there is no one in today. I sit down on the edge of my bed. Dejected. There is a knock on the door, Ivan opens it. It's Ass Dad, his voice, if I had to explain it, it sounds as if he's drunk. Drawled, slow, slurred, his eyes droopy. He looks up at Ivan, "Oh I'm sorry, I must be on the wrong floor."
I get up, get in the doorway, and ask what do you want? He walks up to me with a phone number on a post it pad. "Here, this is the number that you have to call to have your cable fixed." I wanted to take that little piece of paper and make him eat it, but instead I backed Ivan out of my doorway and closed it behind me. The best way to deal with Ass Dad is clear now. He is alone, and my cable is his way of letting people know he's alive. That there is a human on the planet that's still breathing. He's alone, and starving for attention, and the more he gets, the more of this idiotic behavior I'm in store for. It's high time to turn off the attention valve.
So, here I am, sitting around in my room. Once again, through no fault of my own, without the Internet. How grand.
"Hey," Ivan says to me, suddenly hit by an epiphany. "We can go and get the super!"
Hobobob
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