My default setting is douche bag. It doesn’t matter what situation I’m in, my response is always to say something sarcastic and wildly inappropriate. And then cackle evilly.
My family and roommates alike tell me that I have no soul, but they totally egg on my life-bashing antics. So I ignore their silly requests to cry during Nicholas Sparks movies, attend therapy, or be nice to old people, because I know they would find my company much less enjoyable if I didn’t have a devil sitting on my shoulder.
But I do try to keep things in check.
This is mostly accomplished by not insulting people to their face.
But threatening small children who can’t hear my lamentations is totally acceptable! Hence this comic strip, which I totally spent hours upon hours perfecting. Can’t you tell?
See, yesterday, Blonde Beyoncé and I were driving to our favorite grocery store – Numero Uno – when my ability to park was delayed by a little girl spinning around and around in the middle of the parking lot.
Most people would say nothing.
But I said the following things that are so beautifully illustrated below:
Blonde Beyoncé didn’t actually stare at me like that for very long. Instead, she doubled over and laughed until her eyeballs watered. Oh, and then told our other roomies how disgustingly horrible I am. But that was probably to get back at me for making fun of her for liking love stories about comas and cancer.