Normally, I’d have greeted Ramirez with open arms since he was good friends with my
buddy. But I was already in a bad mood, and the alcohol served to amplify that into
outright surliness. I decided I hated Ramirez immediately.
“Hey, what’s up?” said Ramirez.
“None of you’re business!” I spat, slurring my words.
The look on both my buddy’s and Ramirez’s face was one of surprise.
“Dude,” my friend said.
“What?” I said.
“You’re being rude,” he replied.
“Oh, you’re right, I’m sorry,” I said. “None of your FUCKING business.”
For some reason I found that funny at the time. It was at this point I could see that
Ramirez decided he didn’t like me much either. We went on for about twenty minutes
with me popping in occasionally to berate Ramirez or make a joke at his expense.
Finally, Ramirez had enough.
“I thought you said this guy was cool,” Ramirez said.
“He is,” my buddy replied. “He’s just drunk.”
“Being drunk is no excuse,” said Ramirez. “I find being drunk just makes people more
honest. If that’s the case, you’re pal here is a real ass hole.”
“Look, let’s just go someplace else until he sobers up,” my buddy says.
“Fine with me,” said Ramirez, who got up and promptly walked out of the bar. When he
was gone, my buddy turned to me.
“Dude, what was that?” he asked.
“I don’t like him,” I said.
“What? Why?”
“Because.”
“You know how childish you sound right now?”
“I don’t care,” I said. “I don’t like him.”
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