The bear, the boy and the man-bun

I fucking hate driving from Tucson to Phoenix on Friday nights. Last week I get home after 8 “in a mood”. The Bear was sweet and had ordered pizza. Part of it was left for me. I got one beer and one slice and sat in the recliner. In walks the Boy and “man-bun.”

The Bear introduces herself to man-bun, and she asked man-bun a few questions. I was eating and looking for the remote, I have no idea what was said.

“Help yourself to some pizza,” the Bear says.

The douchebags were circling the pizza box like a couple of coyotes holding down a squirming bunny just before they each grab one end and rip it apart.

I had never met man-bun before, and if I had, I forgot him. I never did get his name. When he came in, I just saw a walking pile of hair. I look up in the kitchen. Under his man-bun is one of those goddamn jesus-beards, and he’s got that excited look of a 20-something lining up a free meal.

douchebag man-bun image

“But not too much,” I say.

Man-bun backs slowly away, and I see the Boy grab a couple of slices, fold them over and start stuffing his face on his way out the door.

“Just ignore him,” the Bear says about me. “Have some pizza.” And she looks back down at the iPad. She’s playing some bullshit time-wasting game with lots of colors and noise.

From the living room chair, I glance at the Boy. He gives me a little wave that says: “this is all I’m taking.”

I glance at the Bear to make sure she is still looking down, I look over my shoulder at man-bun in the kitchen. I try to make my face say: don’t make me get out of this fucking chair. I’m not intimidating at all, but man-bun looks down and moves away.

Back to the Boy: “Aren’t you two going out? Can’t you get food there?”

His face is still full of pizza, but he points at the few pieces in his hand and grunts “reee.” He was trying to say “free” but the pepperoni was getting in the way.

The Bear giggled and the two douchebags leave.

“That was very rude of you,” she said. “When we have guests we should offer them food. They looked hungry. If they ate it all, you could have gone out to get more.”

“They were going out for food… Why would we let them eat all of ours and then I have to go get more?” I know I’ve lost this discussion already.

“You’re being an asshole,” she said.

“I’m always an asshole. The Boy knows — that’s nothing new.”

“But his friend doesn’t know.”

“Now he does.” And so do all of you.