Congratulations, The World Hates You!

You son of a bitch. We don’t know how you could bring yourself to do that. To your own blood, no less. We know that the two of you used to say that “what happens in McDonald’s Playland stays in McDonald’s Playland,” but that’s a crock of shit and you, me, and all the rest all know it now.

Ever since then you’ve been plastered all over the media. Letterman even did a so-so bit about you before making a few cracks at Bristol Palin the other night. And who knows? Maybe the time will come when you’ll be able to look back on this and laugh.

But that time hasn’t come yet, and today you’ll be walking through the grocery store when people start to pelt you with eggs. It won’t be entirely out of the ordinary, or entirely unexpected. You’ve sometimes taken to wearing a raincoat and a gorilla mask in order to avoid this sort of thing, but today it’ll have slipped your mind. You’ll have forgotten that this isn’t a world where you can pretend you’re a human being, a world where you haven’t revoked your right to be treated like a person.

After the first few eggs smack you you’ll give up on getting everything on your list and just grab some random cans, running for the checkout.

When you get there you’ll continue to be struck by eggs for another fifteen minutes as the elderly couple ahead of you debates the amount they should be saving based on their coupon selection. You’ll want to scream at them, but you don’t want to draw any more attention to yourself (which isn’t really possible, since a steady stream of eggs are following you now, thrown by children, mothers, and mentally challenged young men, constantly coating you in a yellow glaze). So you’ll quietly stand, trying to salvage some modicum of dignity as the world slows to a crawl around you.

When you finally meet your cashier you’ll be a bit taken aback. She’ll be beautiful, a dark haired, dark eyed young woman who has clearly been pushed down by life and held there until she could barely breathe. It’ll be obvious she has nothing but contempt for this job, the people she works with and the entire customer base of the store. But when she looks at you she’ll smile a little.

“You’re the guy,” she’ll say, clucking her tongue.

You’ll nod and tell her that yes, you were involved in some drama which has been kept out of the courts largely due to jurisdictional issues and mismanagement on the part of the investigating police officer but that you’d just like to pay for your assorted canned goods and go home to look at them in peace instead of being excoriated by her if that’s alright.

She’ll laugh.

“Yeah, I bet you would. World hates you, eh?”

You’ll tell her yes, it certainly seems that way.

She’ll reach across the counter and grab your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Fine by me. I hate the world.”

It’ll be an incredibly awkward pick up line, and you’ll tell her that. She’ll give a dry laugh and pull your face into hers, giving you a passionate kiss before she lets you pay for your canned goods with your debit card and the two of you run out of the store together, pinkies clasped.

Congratulations, the world hates you, but it’s not all bad, is it?