Selfish Assholes

Here is another story, born from a writing prompt, from the book that Julia bought me for my birthday. Enjoy?


I'd called everybody I could think of and I was still ten grand short. That is, everybody but the one person I really didn't want to ask, the one person who...

...I hated talking to more than anyone else in the world. Just the thought of her face chilled me to the bone. We hadn't exactly left our relationship on the best terms. She said some words, I flung some spaghetti noodles, she got horribly disfigured by boiling water. You know, that sort of thing. Still, something told me that she would give me the money that I so desperately needed. She was my last hope. If she didn't help, I was sure that I would end up in the trunk of some really angry people's car, and I think that we can all agree that that would be a very bad thing.

With a headache already developing in the back of my head, and in my back (yeah, I get headaches on my back sometimes. I know it's weird, but I do) I started dialing the number that I had once called so many times a day. A number that I had promised myself that I would never call again. A number that I wanted nothing more than to forget ever existed. A number that wanted me to call it, even if it didn't know it at the time.

As my finger pressed the final key, and eight, I watched in horror as the LED display lit up, letting me know that the call was being connected. I couldn't bring myself to lift the phone up to my ear, it was like my huge muscles were locked up, and unable to do the relatively simple task of lifting a damn phone. To be honest, if they weren't so gorgeous, I would have been angry at them. But, since they made up part of my manly physique, I was willing to forgive them.

After two rings, a voice on the other side answered. One that sent shards of ice through my spine, and a bit of a warm, tingly feeling to my... oh, you know...

"Hello?" I froze. I didn't know what to say to her. It had been so long. "Hello? Mark, I know that's you."

Finally, with an arm that felt like jello, I brought the phone to my ear and responded. "Hello, Tiffany. How are you?" I didn't really care, or even want to know at all, but hell, here I was getting ready to ask her for ten thousand dollars, so I figured that I may as well make a little small talk.

"How am I? Are you fucking kidding me? I haven't talked to you in two years, and you want to call and ask how I'm doing?"

I guess I should have expected that response, or prepared for it, at the very least, but I hadn't been thinking clearly at all. The entire day had been such a blur. It seems that when you owe dangerous people a boat load of money, and they remind you by blowing your car up, rational thought has a way of leaving your head. I know, right? Who the fuck knew?!

Still, I shouldn't have responded the way that I did. "Yeah, that's right, how the fuck are you doing, you psycho, red haired bitch?"

At first there was nothing but stunned silence on the other end of the line, but after a few moments, she launched a barrage of comments that I will not print here. I don't know if my grandma will ever read this, but if she does, I'd hate her to have a heart attack. Needless to say it was "colorful."

"Well, answer me, you asshole!"

"Huh?"

"I said, what the fuck do you want? And don't tell me it was just to check on me, I know that you care less about me than I do about you."

"Well, I figured that since we were getting along so well with the whole "hello" thing, that I thought that I could ask how you were doing," I answered sarcastically. "If not, then excuse the hell out of me, princess."

"Very funny," she answered, laughing. The laughter sounded annoyed, and like it wanted to strangle me, but I know that my strange sense of humor always did have a way of calming her down. The bitch was insanely unstable, but she did know how to enjoy a good laugh at her own expense. To be honest, I have always had a way of making jokes at other people's expense, and they knew that it was funny. I could always tell, just by looking at them.

"Okay, okay. I guess maybe we should get right down to the reason I called, because this is pretty awful for me, and I'd like to get it over with."

"I'm listening," she said. I could almost hear her twirling her hair around her right index finger, as she replied. I used to hate it when she would do that. If I'm being honest, it drove me up a fucking wall. It made me want to punch a baby. It damn near literally sucked away my will to live. But, I allowed her to do it.

"To be honest, I need some money, Tiffany, and not a small amount."

"Good fucking shit, Mark. You're calling me after two years, for money?!"

The anger was creeping back into her voice, but the Band-Aid was already coming off, so I may as well just bear down, and rip that son of a Uhura off. "Yes, Tiffany, I need some money. I'm kind of in a lot of trouble, and I have nobody else to turn to."

"Okay, so the last time I saw you, you call me a "terrible whore", you trip me down a flight of stairs, and throw a pan of boiling hot water at me, and now you want me to loan you money?"

"Loan me money? No, I want you to give me money. You owe me." I couldn't believe this shit. Why was she having trouble with this? I was asking her for money, and she was giving me shit. Would she have rather I called someone else, and never speak to her again? As far as I was concerned I was doing her a favor.

"Mark, please listen to me, you narcissistic piece of shit, I wouldn't give you ten cents if I thought it would save your miserable excuse of a life."

"That's really fucking mature, Tiffany! I've come to you with a favor, and you want to bring old shit up to get out of helping me out? Where's the sweet woman that I know you could be if you would grow up a little bit?"

"Fuck you, you piece of shit!" This conversation was really getting out of hand at this point. I knew it was going to be a tough call, but she was making it so much worse. She was being downright hostile towards me. None of the shit that had happened in the past was my fault. The entire collapse of our relationship was her fault, and she knew it!

"I just don't understand where all of this hostility is coming from. We got along, didn't we? I paid the bills, and you cleaned the house, and took care of the dogs. We had a good thing going. We were a team! So why do you have to be such a bitch right now?"

"Go to hell, Mark. You go to hell, and you die!"

With that, she hung the phone up. I was shocked. How could she be like this? How could she dare be like this? For ten years I took care of her. I worked my ass off, and all she did was cook, and clean the house, and take care of all of the day to day stuff. I was even nice enough to spend time with her on weekends. We would cuddle up on the couch, and watch movies. Now that's quality time! And now she's going to treat me like this?! It was insane.

I did the only thing I could think of at that point, and threw my phone at the wall. As I watched it shatter, someone knocked at the door. And by knocked, I mean that they kicked the door down, and burst into my small apartment. Before I even knew what happened to me, I was being hauled away, and thrown into the trunk of a very nice car.

That car ride was a bit of a blur, and I'll tell you this: they do not make trunks very comfortable. It was cramped, it was stuffy, and the other two people that were locked in the trunk with me were kind of assholes. They kept complaining about their kids needing their parents, and about how they needed to give their daughter her insulin. Meanwhile, I just knew that I was going to miss the KC Chiefs game that night. Which I did, by the way! So what the hell was their problem?

Selfish assholes.