When you spent enough time working alongside someone, you tend to develop a good understanding of them. Sometimes you like them, sometimes you hate them. Usually, it’s a healthy mix of both. Yet when that former coworker who became your friend comes to visit you for a couple of weeks, you can’t help but get back to the old shit-talking routine. When my crabby and grumpy security contractor buddy, “Grumps”, came to visit, that’s exactly what ensued.
Grumps: “That chick from last night won’t text me back, fucking cunt.”
Raul: “That’s because she’s getting a train run on her by a bunch of black dudes.”
Grumps: “No, she’s my little white angel. We had such a deep connection. I’m fucking serious, Raul; I would have married that bitch.”
Raul: “You only talked to her for thirty minutes.”
Grumps: “So? I felt it, man. We were made to be together. Why is she being such a bitch and ignoring my texts?”
Raul: “Because she’s currently getting triple-rodded by Tyron and his buddies.”
Grumps: “Fuck, you’re probably right.”
Raul: “It doesn’t matter. You probably would’ve taken her out on a nice, fancy date and only gotten a peck on the lips as you dropped her off. What was her name again?”
Raul: “Then Tyron would’ve called her up and been like, ‘Yo Sammy, I’m comin’ over. I’m bringing my boys, too. You better have some good weed this time, not that weak bullshit of full seeds and stems like last time. ’”
Grumps: “That white boy feed you good? You gonna need dat energy.”
Raul: “Speaking of weed, roll us another fucking blunt.”
Grumps: “Goddamn it, hold on.”
Grumps rolls us a nice blunt.
Raul: “These are fucking good days we’re living, Grumps.”
Grumps blows smoke into the air.
Grumps: “Mmmmmhmmmm. Dude, I’m having so much fun. Listening to music, smoking green, drinking, and hanging with my boy Raul.”
Raul: “Yep. You see how many hot bitches there are out today?”
Grumps: “Yeah, man. It’s like as soon as I stop checking out the ass of one, another fine bitch passes by. Too bad they’re all a bunch of libtards.”
Raul: “Hey, man, liberals ain’t that bad. Sure, they’re annoying as fuck, but they’re pretty cool and nice if you avoid political conversation with them.”
Grumps: “Oh man, don’t fucking get me started on these fucking liberals, you know what the fuck I saw on Fox News…”
Raul: “No, no, no. We’re not getting into your simpleminded Midwest rhetoric. All you do is fucking get on Facebook and hate-read whatever the conservative propaganda machine wants you to be pissed off about that day.”
Grumps: “All right, fine. Oh man, did I tell you about that fight I saw earlier?”
Raul: “No, what happened?”
Grumps: “Oh, fuck, man. It was hilarious. These two fat bitches start yelling at each other in the middle of the street. One of them was pushing a baby stroller, too. Then one of them starts screaming some shit about the other being a gossipy, shit-talking slut. Then they start slapping one another until a few dudes broke them up.”
Raul: “Holy fuck. I wish I would’ve seen that. Did you get it on video?”
Grumps: “No, it happened way too fast for me to record it.”
Raul: “What time did it happen?”
Grumps: “About three or so.”
Raul: “Oh yeah, that’s when all that welfare trash starts walking around town after going to their appointments or picking up their kids or whatever the fuck people on welfare do.”
Grumps: “They did look ratchet as fuck.”
Smoke fills the room as Grumps swipes through his Tinder.
Grumps: “Oh Raul, so many bitches want my cock.”
Raul: “No, they don’t.”
Grumps: “Yes, they do. I got all these hoes I’m working all over the place. I take them on a date to get some good food, then I let in my fucking rags-to-riches life story and their mouth drops.”
Raul: “Bitches only want you for your money, Grumps.”
Grumps: “They ain’t going to get shit. Making them sign a prenup.”
Raul: “That’s good that you think you got some game. Remember, I ain’t no broke piece of shit either, motherfucker. Sure, I ain’t contractor-rich like you, but I do decent.”
Grumps: “Fine, you’re a mini-baller.”
Raul: “Damn straight. Plus, you need money to get bitches. You’re not a fucking artist like me, Grumps, where you can just work a low-paying gig while waiting for genius to surface.”
Grumps: “Raul, your writing sucks. I could write better shit than that without trying.”
Raul: “Like I really respect your opinion regarding literature. What the fuck is the last book you read?”
Grumps: “Hell if I know.”
Raul: “See Grumps, I play the long game. Using my words, stories, and shit to show chicks I’m a deep, thoughtful soul and not just a Latin stud.”
Grumps: “Well, I got a Mercedes SLR and my own house paid for. Bitches’ panties get drenched for that shit. Maybe one day you’ll be rich like me. I hope that for you.”
Raul: “Awwww…you’re sweet. Whatever happened with that one college chick you took out on a date the other night?’
Grumps: “I took her to the mall and bought her some lingerie. Had her little tight twenty-one-year-old ass model it for me. Then I tore that puss up and filled it full of freedom!”
Raul: “Smash that puss! You know she is going to be wearing that lingerie for one of her college boys, right?”
Grumps: “Pfff, I don’t give a fuck. She was just a random piece of pussy to me.”
Silence fills the room for a few minutes as we relax.
Raul: “These are good days we’re living, Grumps.”
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