The Spawning And Nurturement of Assholes
by James MacLaren
Sometimes you just gotta wonder where in the living hell do all these assholes come from. And on certain rare occasions you’re fortunate enough to get a glimpse into the hidden realm of Where Assholes Come From. Seize the moment! Pay attention! Watch closely and maybe you’ll learn something.
Consider if you will, a dented old Ford pickup truck with a scratched decal on the back window showing Calvin pissing on a Chevy logo.
It rolls to a stop, in front of the gas pump island. Inside, mother and child.
The kid jumps out of the truck before it’s even quite stopped rolling. Mom immediately starts hollering at the kid, who ignores her utterly. He’s a fat little thing, about three and a half feet tall, possessed of an amazing amount of energy despite his obesity. Sugar high, no doubt.
We’re gonna squeegee the windshield, that’s what we’re gonna do.
The fat little kid bounces like a ball, over to where the handle of the squeegee is just barely within his tippy toe reach. He’s got it! Mom hollers even louder, demanding the squeegee. The fat tornado whirls to the opposite side of the truck and makes an ineffectual swipe in the direction of the windshield on the passenger side. Damn. Too short. An attempt is made to clamber up on the fender of the pickup, but the little shit is just too short and too fat to pull it off. The squeegee flails in his vice-like grip.
Mom has become sufficiently enraged to emerge from the truck and attempt to take possession of the squeegee. She’s fat as hell too. Surprise, eh? A stern command is issued. “Hand over the damn squeegee!” Our fat dynamo grins evilly and runs in the opposite direction. Mom gives chase but the mass of her oblate body prevents her from catching the bouncing ball that is her child. The kid’s feet are a blur of motion as he dodges first this way and that. Mom hollers even louder but the kid ignores her every command.
A stalemate.
Finally mom gives up and gets back inside the truck.
The fat kid then proceeds to run the squeegee along the very bottom corner of the windshield over on the passenger side. Around to the driver side. Same procedure. Mom doesn’t even bother to open the door, even though the kid is almost within arm’s reach. The kid continues to squeegee the same tiny bit of glass, over and over. Finally, mom has had enough. “Put that damn thing away!” Of course the kid ignores her. Mom finally gets his attention by easing the truck forward, as if to drive off and abandon the little monster. Perhaps some day she will. But not today.
The kid gets the idea and whirrs over to where the squeegee goes and manages to return it to its proper resting place. He then jumps into the truck and the two of them drive off into the sunset.
No gas was ever pumped. The windshield remained as bug smeared as it ever was. The kid learned, once again, that it’s perfectly appropriate to ignore mom’s every word. Mom has managed to completely waste fifteen minutes of her life on a thoroughly futile endeavor, while at the same time teaching her child to be an even bigger butthole than he was before. Nothing got done despite the expenditure of a considerable amount of energy. The gas pumps were blocked for the entire time.
They’re out there breeding.
Fuck off, assholes.
