Aug 02 2005


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“Brigid, could I have a word with you?” asked Treville.

“Yes,” Brigid replied. “And that word is ‘goodbye.'” She immediately began walking away.

“Hold on, hold on,” said Treville, jogging a bit to keep up. “You don’t know what I want to say!”

“I don’t care what you want to say, either, you gruesome little toad. Now get away from me before I set your hair on fire.”

“Look, I realize that I probably rubbed you the wrong way the other night–”

“If you’d rubbed me at all you’d have pulled back bloody stumps.”

“–but the point is, I’d like to just let bygones be bygones, y’know? Bury the hatchet.”

Brigid stopped and turned on him. “No,” she said. “Do you get that? No! You can’t just act like a prick and then come back later and ask for a do-over. You haven’t done anything to make up for it, you haven’t done anything to earn another chance, you haven’t paid for your mistakes, and I see no reason to think that in ten minutes time you won’t just act like a prick again. Maybe you’re just hard-wired to be a prick, or maybe you’re a prick by choice, I don’t care. The point is, I’ve got better things to do with my time than to put up with you. Now buzz off!”

“Geeze, you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” Treville said.

Brigid pulled out her lucky Zippo lighter and flipped the top open. “Lean down here so I can reach your hair,” she said.

“Okay, I’m going!” said Treville, backing away hastily.

-The Gneech

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