Donkey Boy

09.07.08

Last night I was sitting in the back of the BAC Lounge talking to a buxom blonde girl named Meagan, who, as fate would have it, was engaged. She broke our conversation to take a photo with her friends. Some douche was taking the photo for them. I was unsure as to his connection to the group.

"Hey Meagan, quit talking to donkey boy over there and take the photo," he muttered. Though it was a loud bar, I managed to hear his comment.

"Did you just call me donkey boy?" I asked the yokel, incredulous. I wondered if such a title stemmed from my mohawk, or from my political leanings.

"Uh, yeah, I did," he replied, somewhat embarrassed, or so I imagined.

"Wow." I was taken aback. "How did you know my nickname?"

Meagan was giggling at this point.

"Uh, I don't know." He muttered something imperceptible and completely lacking in cleverness while maintaining a somewhat surly attitude.

"Oh wait, I know... you must've been talking to your mother recently."

At this point Meagan began cracking up, but the dude and his friend were a bit slow on the uptake. About half a minute later the joke fully dawned on them.

"That's fucked up man," the tool's friend said, while the guy reeled, dumbfounded.

The guy and his friend postured for a while, acting offended, but neither of them approached me. The way I see it, if they had been cool they would've just laughed it off. I mean, don't dish it out if you can't take it.