Article: 261425 of talk.bizarre
From: soren@delerium.engr.arizona.edu (Soren Ragsdale)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Staredown Victory
Date: Fri, 01 Dec 1995 16:11:06 -0700
Organization: U of A Poultry Research Labs
Lines: 80
Message-ID: <soren-0112951611060001@yuma7.rescomp.arizona.edu>
Status: O
X-Status: 

Though he doesn't yet have a net connection, my brother still wanted to
contribute to FTSD.  This is a part of a letter he wrote to me and
apparently a true story.  He's sixteen.

-------

"Let me tell you about my best staredown victory again.  Seth and his
family were visiting from Maryland.  Richard, dad, Eiel, Seth and I
decided to wake up early and go biking at a National Forest.  We left at
about 8:00 AM and stopped at a McDonald's for a little breakfast.  Us
three boys ran in to get in line while the dads parked the car.  Each of
us got in different lines, to see which one was shortest.  It quickly
became apparent that Seth's line would be the shortest.  So Eiel and I
went into Seth's line.  Looking at Seth, I wondered who was taller.  I
thought he was, but Eiel and Seth thought I was.  I needed a fourth
opinion (four does the trick) so I turned to the nice lady behind us and
asked.  Imagine my shock when, instead of answering my question, she puts
on the most foul grimace and said in a scathing voice, "You cut."

"No", I said, noticing her stubby black whiskers, we are all together
anyway, so..."

"No!", she interrupted.  I was taken aback, so I turned around and tried
to ignore her.  Moments later, I felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was the
bearded bitch.  I turned around.

"Did you know you're a jerk for cutting?"  she said.

"No", I replied plainly.

"Well you are a jerk, because you cut me."  she said, wiggling her jaw,
tapping her foot, and waving a rolled up women's magazine at me.

"OK, I am a jerk.  I am cutting whether you like it or not, and you are
going to just have to deal with that fact.  If it would make you feel
better if I know that you think I am a jerk, then it is noted", I
responded, realizing that I was not talking to a sensible person.  She did
not know what to say to that, so she resorted to trying to intimidate me
by staring.  However, she did not know that I am a practiced master of the
art of staring down.  She did not know that I had stared down thousands of
people ten times more powerful than her.  And most of all, she did not
know how much hat (sic) I had for her at this moment.

She stared, and I stared right back.  Seth and Eiel ordered for me as I
continued staring.  I was getting bored with it; I had done this thousands
of times before.  Yet, I had no intention of losing, even if I had to
stand there until the cops came to physically remove us from the store.  I
wanted the staring to end, because I wanted to sink my teeth into that
scrumptious Sausage McMuffin.  But stronger was my desire to strike fear
and defeat into her heart.  So I started to mutter, softly and
discretely.  (sic)  I started to mutter evil things, things man was not
meant to mutter.  "Hookaxe in your thorax.  Top it off with a couple of
creeping horacks.  Charles Manson is my grandmother.  Timothy McVeigh is
my brother.  Brain tumor.  One of us has one.  Not going to say who. 
Wait.  I am.  It is you.  You have a brain tumor.  This brain tumor is
growing at an alarming rate.  It is moving through time and space to kill
you.  It cannot be stopped.  You will die from this brain tumor.  A very
slow, painful death you shall suffer.  And you deserve it, too.  Ha!"

"Is that supposed to scare me?", she asked, obviously very scared.

"No, but it is supposed to cause a brain tumor.  And it will.  By the
powers of Satan, it will.  And I will laugh while I watch you die.  How
does that make you feel?"  Her lip started to tremble.  She looked down at
my shirt.  It was the psycho from Red Meat.  Earl and I stared her down
together.  She looked up to the front of the line and I took the
opportunity to look away.  I had won.  We got our food and left.  As I
left, I looked at her.  She did not return my glancel she was sheepish.  I
said to her, "You deserve your fate", and I left.

-------

I don't know whether to be proud or frightened that I'm related to this person.

-- 
"As I understand it, that's why America is a great 
country.  Nobody has to eat sausages if they don't want 
to." -Daniel Pinkwater, "Lizard Music"
Soren Ragsdale - soren@delerium.engr.arizona.edu
http://www.emerald.net/soren/home.html