I recently bitched at the world on a Myspace survey about how women constantly say, "I don't want drama", or "This is a drama free zone". You see it all over online, especially with broads. I am convinced that it's the stupidest damn thing in the world to say.
Looking at me through whiskey drunk eyes while we're outside smoking, I see him glaring at the door.
"What the fuck are you looking at?"
"Waitin' for that motherfucker to come out the door, I'm gonna hit him."
This is my big Irish Army friend who lies to women constantly and gets far too hammered drunk for his own good. He told me years ago that Ryer and I were like the older brothers he never had, and even after all this time it's clear that I'm one of the only people around that can keep a handle on him, that he'll actually listen too.
"Like fuckin' hell you are, he's one of my buddies," I say.
"He's a dick."
At that moment my buddy walks out, and they start jawing at each other, low mumbled threats meant so that the other one could overhear. Both of them are tough kids, and a fight would be hideously ugly and end badly.
I look at my buddy, and now I'm between them. "You don't fuckin touch him, I know this guy."
Then I turn and grab Army's arm, leading him away. I turn to him and point directly in his face. "You don't fuckin do anything. You fucking hear me?"
"But he's a dick, he's-"
"I don't want to hear it. You remember The Departed? You remember the guy who tells people who they can hit and who they can't? Well, that's fuckin' me. And I say you don't fucking hit him."
He looks upset, like a puppy you just kicked, but this is for his own good. "Fine," he mumbles.
"Where do you live? How you gettin' home?"
"I'm walkin, I live down there. Look, fuck that kid-"
"HEY! I don't want to fuckin hear it. This ain't optional. Get fucking moving."
He looks at me open mouthed, as if he has something else to say, but all he manages is a resigned, "Fine..." He turns around, begins to trail off, stumbling down the road.
Had it continued any more, I would have had to pull the Ryer card with my other buddy, and tell him that if Ryer was here he would kill him for laying a hand on Army. I don't like bringing him up, because it can ruin a night quickly and depress the hell out people... but I was not about to watch anyone touch him. As much as I'm like his older brother, he's like my younger one, and I have to watch out for him because no one else will. His parents hate him for being a stupid drunk, his grandfather threw him out, and his friends are shakily loyal. That's bad when you like whiskey and have a big mouth, but there's nothing I can do. I won't watch him get beat down by anybody.
"DRAMA!" And you know what? When I'm on my deathbed, I will wish like hell for ten more minutes of that same "drama" that all the broads hate so much. If you want to drink, fight, fuck, live, then drama is entwined in all of it. Good luck getting away from it.
I fuckin loooooovvveeeee it!