So I was at the Jazz Bar sipping on a locally brewed Wheat IPA, and a woman sat down at my table with her friend.
The place was filling up and there were not many places left to sit. I indicated to her that no one was using those chairs, so it was fine. I imagine I used those noise things from my mouth that we call words to do this. I can't be sure.
She was too pretty.
There is no medication or therapy in the world that will get me used to the idea that I am allowed in the same room as a woman that is too pretty.
I noticed that she was acting awkwardly. Fuck. Years of self-doubt returned and I spent the next half hour staring into my drink or getting odd returned looks from the band and bar staff.
Finally the too pretty woman and her friend left the bar. I sighed into my beer and my brother leaned in and whispered to me an apology:
"Hey. Sorry that was so awkward. She asked me out earlier this year but I freaked out because she is too pretty. Then I immediately started dating my ex the next day. I guess she isn't over it?"
And that is why I murdered my brother, your honour.
Thinking of you all here at I Mockery Dot Com.
- Pubbles.
Linear Mode
