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every. damn. thursday.
me: *innocently using her computer without bothering anyone*
my brother: you're not watching glee!
me: i don't watch glee.
my brother: you HAVE TO watch glee!
me: i don't WANT to watch glee.
my brother: ...i'll sic a bird on you! *points bicho (one of our pet birds) straight at my face*
me: *massive eyeroll*
*twenty minutes later*
me: *still innocently using her computer without bothering anyone*
my mom: you know glee's on, right?
me: *twitch* ...i don't watch glee.
my mom: oh, that's right. must you always be the odd one out, though?
me: *more massive eyerolling*
*half an hour later*
my brother: *bursting into the room* DOOOOON'T STOP - BELIEEEEEEEVING! HOLD ON TO THAT FEEEEEEEELING YEAAAAAAAHHHH!
me: *HEADDESK HEADDESK HEADDESK*
...yeah, i'm surrounded by crazy people. and birds.
*rolls eyes*
meanwhile, look! this isn't an "extra" post! =D =D =D i've been hating this thing for like a month, but then last night i re-read it and... turns out i actually like it! lol, i'm weird.
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Some of his frustration must've seeped into his tone despite his pleas for patience, because blond guy frowned at him. "Whoa, whoa! What's with the attitude?" The other men made ridiculous 'ooh' sounds at that, like saying 'oh, now you're in for it, buddy'-- He was supposed to feel intimidated now, Mervin guessed, wanting to roll his eyes at them.
He turned toward them again, and put on what he hoped was a conciliatory smile. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean for it to come out that way, I'm just having a crappy night. Sorry."
The whole group guffawed at that. "Oh, he's having a bad night," the blond one intervened again. "That explains it. Obviously since he's had a bad night that lets him off from other stuff like, I don't know, being polite or not being a klutz." His friends laughed like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard in their lives. "Of course. What was I thinking? My bad."
Yes, because your picture is right beside the definition of "polite" in the dictionary, Mervin thought, trying to keep himself in check. And failing. While we're at it, maybe he'd be interested in some other definitions, like for the word "jerk" or "dickhead"... "I'm sorry," was all he said out loud, though.
"Whatever, just go get him his beer," he finished dismissively, taking another gulp of his beer. As Mervin was walking away, he turned to the guy who was sitting behind him. "He sure apologizes a lot, doesn't he?" He shook his head. "What a wuss."
The other guy laughed. "Maybe we should just ask for another waiter, mate. Or waitress, rather."
"That hot ginger one!" piped up the one that had complained about his beer being too warm. "Man, I wouldn't mind her taking my order, if you know what I mean," he added in a tone so suggestive that it made his intended meaning more than obvious. To anyone with an IQ higher than a carrot's, that is. Which, if you thought about it, probably excluded all five of them.
"I've got no problem with that," the blond one said, leaning back in his chair.
"Call her up, Arthur! If anyone can convince her to take a break here with us, it'll be you," the warm-beer one encouraged him, and Arthur-- that was the blond's name, it seemed-- stood up, arrogantly looking over the width of the bar, searching for a certain red-headed co-worker of Mervin's.
Alright, enough was enough. Mervin drew the line at potential sexual harassment.
"You know, you don't have to do that," he said, turning sharply, beer mug still in hand, words coming out of his mouth before he could stop himself. His brain was telling him this wasn't particularly the brightest idea he'd ever had, but he just couldn't keep himself in check anymore.
Arthur crossed his arms and threw him an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"
Mervin paused, rethought his argument, and started again. "I'm just saying: I'm here. If you want anything, you can ask me and I'll get it for you. There's no need to involve her."
Arthur raised his eyebrows at him, half amused and half in disbelief at his gall, as his friends went all "ooh" like the mentally-deficient pawns they were. "Sorry, you don't have the right... assets, it seems." He disdainfuly looked Mervin up and down, as if pointedly proving his point. He took two steps closer and smirked, clearly self-satisfied. His cronies laughed again.
Mervin sighed, tired of all the stupidity. "Listen, mate, you want beer, I'll go get you more beer. You'll all drink in peace, and then when you're properly smashed you can stumble out of here and find as many women you want to sleep with. Just don't look for them in here," he said, more than a bit exasperated, so his tone came out somewhat like he was speaking to a particularly stubborn five-year-old.
Arthur scoffed, walking even closer, his swagger designed to be intimidating. "Don't call me mate, we're not friends, man." A few steps and he was already invading the-- as it became more and more obvious with the proximity-- much skinnier young man's space in a threatening fashion. "And about your request... I think not."
"It's a miracle you manage to think at all," Mervin quipped smartly before he could stop himself. Clearly his sense of self-preservation had flown out the window, but he just couldn't keep the comebacks down when someone was going to get bullied. It was just who he was.
Arthur bristled at that. "You think you're so funny, don't you?" He shoved Mervin on one shoulder, hard, then laughed. Mervin stepped back out of reflex, raising his hands to try and show that he didn't want to fight. By then they'd caught the attention of every pair of eyes in the bar. "Do you know who I am?"
"Other than a massive prat?" Once again he had intended to mutter the words under his breath, but things didn't always happen as planned. Word vomit, what could he say-- but he'd be damned if the big jerk didn't deserve to have some truths rubbed in his face. His flunkies obviously couldn't be counted on to do anything but kiss his ass, if the way they were whistling and banging their fists against the table was any indication.
Arthur, thinking it hilarious that the dumbo-wannabe wouldn't just shut up, grabbed him by the neck of his uniform and the corresponding raptured gasp came from the crowd. Merlin was barely stuttering his surprise, though, when the manager made an appearance. "Excuse me, is there a problem here, gentlemen?"
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yeah, i had to change some of the names. i mean, who goes around naming their kid "merlin" nowadays? ^^;;;
i need a title for this thing, though. i can't think of anything that isn't ridiculously cliche.