As I walked across the street to find the number for the tow company, this guy walking past me asks for the time. I look at my phone and tell him " it's 8 o'clock"
"8 o'clock on the dot?"
"No it's actually 7:55"
He throws up his hands in exasperation and goes "that's not 8 is it?"
I am completely thrown off by his comment and immediately blow a fuse. "Why don't you go fuck yourself you piece of shit and find your own goddamn time." I walk away before he gives me more reason to punch him in his precise goddamn face.
I tend to have a pretty short temper along with a bad vindictive streak.
In the 7th grade a kid named John tackled me to the ground and put me in a half nelson to impress some girls.
In the 10th grade a kid named Jimmy punched me in the face in spanish class because i talked shit to him earlier during the day.
In the 11th grade a kid named Andrew hit me in the nuts after he asked me what the capitol of Thailand was.
I still hate these fucking kids and think about what I would do to them if I were to ever bump into them again.
But then again I feel like all this hate and anger is purely self destructive. I call the SFMTA and find out where my car has been towed to, it's about a 2 mile trek south, through the Tenderloin and downtown. On the way I see the guy who asked me for the time. He avoids eye contact with me and keeps going on his way.
I feel like this is probably the way things would go if I ever saw John, or Jimmy, or Andrew. Because so much time has already passed. Because these things matter so little now.
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