Troll

"Have you ever punched someone in the face? Or been punched in the face?" I was answering Eddie, who'd just asked what I was thinking about. Vague, ambiguous stares rested on Eddie, Kevin and Trevor. I knocked back my shot of Bushmills, took a sip of beer, set the glass down and waited for an answer.

"Where's this going?" Asks Eddie.

"I'm trying to answer your question." He looked around the table at the others. Eddie's never been in a fight and I knew it. Lucky him.

"The first time you hit someone in the face, it's a little traumatic. Shocking, kinda. Not like on TV." I started. Kevin nodded in agreement. I knew he'd been in his share of fist fights and I obliquely wondered why he hadn't spoken up. "The bone of your knuckles slamming into the bone and cartilage of someone's face; their nose maybe. Maybe an eye socket." I got the bartender's attention and motioned for another round of drinks. "Sometimes, when you're by yourself, you think about it. At least the first time," I said. "You don't want to admit to your friends, or yourself for that matter, that hurting someone somehow bothered you. But it did, and there's no two ways about it. Unless you're some sort of psychopath."

"Is this going somewhere?" Trev asked.

"Oh, I imagine so. I'm just taking the tourist route."

"We've lived here for about 7 years now." I took the point. I occasionally come down with logorrhea when I've been drinking.

"Well, we're told from the time we're able to throw a decent looking punch not to hit women. And,being the good little boys we are, we mind our parents. So we don't hit girls for no other reason than our parents told us not to." The bartender came, set down our drinks and asked if there was anything else. His shift was over. I shook my head. But we took the hint and we each gave him some cash.

"But the first time you jaw jack someone, there becomes a reason for not hitting women that's a bit more tangible than your parents' voice clanging about in your head," I continued. "The sudden violence of it. The barbarism of hitting someone. The carnage that used to be a face, if you find yourself so enraged that you can't stop." Trev raised his shot glass, we all tapped glasses, and threw the liquor to the back of our throats.

I gazed around the table and I could tell that not only was I dominating the conversation, but it was either annoying the hell out them, or confusing the hell out of everyone. I couldn't decide. But I delivered the point.

"I talked to my friend Tony in Seattle earlier today," I said. This was met by nods of recognition. Trev and Kevin have met him. "You remember his ex-fiance?"

"You mean the one that ran out and took all of his shit? That troll?" Trev asked.

"One and the same." I said. I shook my head in disbelief. I still couldn't believe the story he told me today.

"Well, apparently she's knocked up by some Larry that she met on MySpace."

"You're shitting me, "laughed Kevin.

"I bullshit you not. Anyway, Larry and her drop by Tony's aunt and uncle's house every once and a while."

"Hold the fuck up, " Eddie says. "They drop by TONY'S aunt and uncle's house?! Fucking for what? Your visiting privileges were revoked when we broke up, troll."

"No shit," Trev said. I could tell he was getting a bit drunk, and there was going to be some vitriolic language in the near future.

"Oh, but that's not all. On their latest visit, she,with Larry sittting there, asked if they could move in--with Tony's aunt and uncle." I paused. Took a deep drink of my beer, and let that settle in. Incredulous laughter. Shaking of the heads. Complete disbelief.

"Is this fucking bitch's late night snack paint chips? Seriously, what's her fucking problem," Trev started. "Okay, just to recap," he takes a sip of brew while holding up his hand asking for a second. "You and I are going to get married. Then, because lately you been demonstrating some troll tendencies, I decide that we need to just put this off for a few months. You know, until I determine whether or not you're a fucking stray masquerading as a decent human being. Then, mustering up all of the morality that exists in your fiber, you move out while I'm at work and steal all of my shit. Then, because I'm a nice guy--and Tony is too fucking nice if you ask me--I just let it go. Chalk it up to the cost of doing business with tramps." We're getting a good laugh out of this. He takes a swig of beer. His leg bouncing in obvious agitation.

"Then, you keep calling my aunt and uncle. Announce to them that you're knocked up by some guy you met while trolling on Myspace. Then, because you have some misplaced idea of what's acceptable and what isn't, you ask them if you and Larry can move in. Are you fucking shitting me?"

I took a drink of beer. Nodded. Pretty good synopsis. Funny, when you hear it summed up like that, it's hard to believe this shit is really going on. The absurdity of it all is breathtaking.

"How long has this shit been going on," asked Eddie.

"A little over a year now," I answered. A year. Wow, I just realized that'd it been a year.

"A year?! A fucking year?! That bitch is like herpes. She just won't go away," yelled Trev.

"Seriously, there are some fucking rules, bitch. Like, when one of your friends breaks up with a girl, you can't date her. That's just fucking wrong," says Kevin. "And when you break up with that girl, or she breaks up with you--however it goes--you don't visit each other's families. You don't talk to them, you don't send them fucking Christmas cards. Nothing. All of that shit is over."

"It's just waaaay too awkward," says Eddie. "She has no fucking sense." We sat in silence for a bit. Drinking our beer and shaking our heads. Imagining what type of necrosis has to set in to devolve into something so vile. Honestly, if I got something like this troll stuck to my shoe, I'd just buy a new pair of shoes.

"She's cuntastically fucked up," says Trevor. "But now I think I get where you were going earlier."

"Me too, "says Kev.

"Would you punch her in the face," Eddie says. We silently sat there each of us contemplating it for themselves.

"Would you, Simon. Would you drop her ass," Kevin asked.

"I'm not your moral compass, " I answered. "Would you?"

"I hate to say it, but I think I would shoot her one," said Kevin. He looked around the table to gauge the reactions of everyone. The expressions were impassive. I think everyone wanting to say unequivocally that they would just leave it be. That they would just let it go. But, and maybe it was the booze, no one could say that and it was all over their faces.

Trev leaned in and said, "Okay come clean, Simon Would you play her some chin music?"

"I'm not Chris Rock. But I wouldn't do it, but if Tony did, I would understand." Chuckles all around. "But Larry is a different story. I'd drop kick his ass into the Puget Sound. Just for being such a loser as to stand in my aunt and uncle's living room while trolleriffic asks to move in."

"No doubt," Trev said as he motioned for another beer.