Recently, while I was pumping gas at a local convenience store, I saw a guy I went to school with. I don't know how to get around saying this: he was a redneck, squinty eyed, red-haired, slack jawed, idiot bully, who went by the extremely ironic name "Purty." That's backwoods for "pretty," for those who didn't grow up in the impoverished south. When we were in school, he never passed up an opportunity to pick a fight with me and my friends. The only reason I'm even mentioning any of this is because of the exchange I overheard between him and a guy driving a brand new, very expensive Mercedes Benz. The big, sleek, 2 door model.
Now this guy, who was obviously rather successful, and quite large - probably 6'6', 275 lbs. - was parked next to Mr. Purty at the gas pumps, and he asked him to please extinguish his cigarette while he dispensed fuel into his old Chevy pick-up. You know, so he wouldn't cause a fiery explosion, blowing up everyone at the pumps, as well as this guy's luxury automobile. Now, the belligerent Mr. Purty told him, in no uncertain terms, where he could go, etc. This provoked a retort from the big guy and the conversation became more and more heated, with Purty inquiring, at some point, "Why don't you make me, asshole?" The big guy followed him to the store, lecturing about fire and gasoline and threatening to call 911. Mr. Purty did then exclaim, in a loud, whiny drawl, "I don't give a goddamn about you and your fucking car!" The big guy called him a moron.
The point of all of this, I guess, is that I found it so interesting that after 35 years or more, Purty was the same weird, ignorant, scared, hate-filled dumb-ass that tormented me in high school. Oddly enough, he even looked about the same.
Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose...
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