skirt-chasing and trouser-trout-playing.

the classic alpha-male standoff. oh you know what it is and how it looks like. so i was at the library counter patiently waiting my turn behind some ladies who got there first. well actually they didn't get there first but alpha males are traditionally well-behaved-on-first-encounters-motherfuckers. you know how they're sweet and polite and all gentleman the first few times they meet anything even remotely female; any chance at getting into skirts! though some draw the line at courtney love. and scots.

anyway so i was there wishfully thinking skirt when trousers come bounding up from behind me and made straight for the counter probably with neither skirt nor pants in mind, but the fact that he REALLY wanted to return his tape. big fucking deal. so did i. and acting like it's really urgent, as if his gramma had gone out that morning on hot pursuit after some indian communists who've stolen her embroidery for shipping to russia and had came face-to-face with a three-tonne truck and escaped unscathed and had then returned home to read the papers and had gotten a paper cut and sent to the hospital; doesn't help. how is he to know that i don't have a grampa, after having ran errands for the a drug ring by trafficking 3kg of cocaine from mat-land without a hitch and blown up a local factory without anyone noticing and driven his van after kids after school only to have them leap out of the way and had gone home only to have had his wallet stolen; waiting in the police station for me?

anyhow so he was at the counter. i was faced with 3 alternatives. 1) stare the bugger into submission. 2) beat him into a senseless pulp. 3) apply social tolerance. and what does one do in the face of choices? he takes all 3. to put it in analogical form, to have your cake, eat it, and give it to a woman whose skirt you wanna get under. i stared at him, waited for 3 nanoseconds, then pulled him screaming into the loo, and applied my elbows and knees liberally to various parts of his anatomy such as the sternum, ribs, throat and of course the all-important groin.

and whilst all this was running through my head i was reminded of a talk i had with a lecturer some time back. he asked me what i would do if someone jumped a queue i was in. i said i would not do a thing, much like social tolerance. cos if he was doing it unknowingly then it won't be a malicious act and so will be of no consequence as pertaining to ethics on his end; and if he did it knowingly then he'll just be revelling in his fucked-up-ness and doing anything about it on my end probably won't help. in any case, i applied my master argument in the end - there is no such thing as morality and moral codes of any kind. all this is but a human construct with no more ontological import than a 5-legged unicorn with a penchant for masturbation lying languidly under my bed materializing whenever i leave my room.

i stared at him.