I Will Always Hate You, Jimmy

So I was down by the street, talking about perennials with Suzanne, when Jimmy Albright came around the corner and started heading toward us. Immediately, Suzanne made some excuse about having to go perform excruciating dental work on herself and ran in her house and locked the door. That wasn't very surprising, because everybody hates Jimmy.

When we were all young and in school, Jimmy constantly tried to compete with people to prove he was better, except he would try to compete in really stupid things, like memorizing the names of different types of grass, and then he'd always fuck it up. He'd point at crabgrass or something and try to convince you it was indigo, which isn't even a grass. Most of the time people just ignored him, but then he'd try to make you acknowledge that he was correct, and then he'd call you an idiot and stand there trying not to cry.

Once, after we'd all graduated, Jimmy came to our apartment with this shirt that said "Mustache Rides: 10c". It was pretty damn stupid, because he didn't have a mustache, and nobody wanted to get close to him anyways; but every time he got a chance he'd try to start a conversation about his shirt and how he got the hot neighbor college girl to agree, once, out behind the laundry room, behind the sassafras trees (which were really oleander bushes, but Jimmy is a fucking retard). He kept acting like he was God's gift to women, even though every time we watched Pee-Wee's Playhouse he'd sit there drooling on the couch and pretending his soldier wasn't at full salute, and he'd just stare and stare at Paul Reubens until Jambi came on, because Jimmy is scared to death of Jambi.

So here's Jimmy, coming down the street towards me, and me being totally unable to escape, and I can smell his butterchub stench, which is kind of like what I imagine a skunk smells like after a painful and damaging display of bestiality. And he's got this shiny thing in his hand, which turns out to be a ring. And he says he found this ring in his daisies (you idiot, Jimmy, those are so totally echinopsis spachiana), and that he totally knows it's made out of platinum or maybe uranium, and how he's going to be so fucking rich, even though I can totally tell it's one of the rings off of his mom's keychain to her VW Golf, and she is going to totally get pissed at him and lock him in the closet again like she always does.

And I can see Suzanne through her window, briefly giving me a look of pity, while dumbass Jimmy talks about his stupid keyring. Go away, Jimmy. Seriously. Listening to you talk is like listening to vultures choking on shit.