Pests

My nemesis reared his particularly ugly arseface today for the first time in ages. Annoyingly, I'm pretty sure that he thinks we're actually friends on some sort of level - rather like Batman and the Joker; neither can really exist without the other. Trust me - I can.

(I don't want to specify which I would be, because although I'm younger, buffer, have more "wonderful toys," and occasionally drawn to periods of quiet, inward contemplation, the Joker does tend to be lot funnier, and I like to think I'm at least reasonably amusing, and would look pretty hot in a purple suit with green hair...)

Anyway, up he pops like a turd that won't flush trying to be all superior sounding and witty, when all he's actually doing is getting on my tits and making me yawn. A while back he even made the suggestion that we should meet up for a drink. I haven't laughed so hard in ages (maybe he is witty?). I declined, once I'd caught my breath; after all, I'd only have wanted to taint his beverage with Smilex.

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Pest the second also collared me today. This pest, while at least not as overpoweringly annoying as my Nemesis (probably ranking at around Riddler level on our sliding Bat-scale), has the remarkable ability to take a subject you like - hell, maybe even love! - and transform it into something you really, REALLY, don't ever want to talk about again. Ever.

During today's conversation I actually sat there, bottom jaw hanging way down and with a really stupid, openly spacker-tastic expression on my face and yet HE INSISTED ON CONTINUING TO TALK TO ME. Good grief, it's lucky there weren't any sharp objects within easy reach; my dilemma then would've been between murder or suicide...