Inside, I'm Laughing At You

Well… I went to the midnight screening of Watchmen last night at the Valley Plaza. I generally go there to avoid running into certain former co-workers of mine, not to mention the legion of “kids” who might remember me. Normally, this movie policy of mine goes just fine. I don’t usually run into anyone I know at the mall. Only, this time, I did…

Rob Gallagher. Yeah, that Rob Gallagher. The one who got me fired. The one whose sins are tacked onto my own, and I’m paying for both.

I was in the theatre with my friend already and we were close to the front, off to the side. Rob came in right next to us and saw me immediately. He averted his eyes quickly and jumped across the aisle to the “friends” he knew in the seats adjacent to us.

He was hand-shaking and sweating like some sort of cheap, greasy used car salesman. He looks like he’s gained a good 20 lbs in the last year. I, for my part, pretty much just sat there. I was probably smiling at his discomfort. My friend wanted to get up and say something nasty to him. After a few short moments he found a seat further up in the room.

Before the movie started, he made another trip down, practically running out of the room. Regardless, he made sure to steal another glance at me, as if to confirm that it was really me. He reentered the room about 30 seconds later, in much the same fashion as before. Sweat. Grease. Kissing babies. Shaking hands. Being the smug, ugly, useless fuck he is.

Once the movie was over, we exited quickly. My friend needed to use the restroom, so I stood near the entrance of our screening room, waiting. Rob never came out. Once my friend was ready, we left the theatre properly and headed home.

Was he afraid I was going to do something to him? It’s not like I’m the one with a criminal record or anything. I mean, I know exactly what would have happened if we’d have run into each other in a way he couldn’t avoid. He’d have put on his phony act, telling me how he missed me and how awesome I am. He’d tell me about how it was an injustice that I was fired, and that, well, he never really liked those people anyway. Because I’m an awesome guy.

Phony motherfucker.

In all likelihood, I would have told him to “fuck off,” plain and simple. I just don’t have any room in my life for phonies like him. Excise. Delete. Avoid.