In the movie Punch-Drunk Love, Adam Sandler plays Barry Egan, an executive at a company with a product line of novelty toiletries. Barry has seven sisters, who are all on his case at every moment, and he desperately wishes they would stop invading his privacy, ordering him around and putting him down. He tries at a family gathering to be congenial and friendly, but we can see the tension in his smiling lips and darting eyes, and suddenly he explodes, kicking out the glass patio doors.
This is a pattern. He presents to the world a face of cheerful blandness, and then erupts in terrifying displays of frustrated violence.
I too suffer from said complex. I don't explode much, but the few times I have, I almost hit my little brother in the eye with a screwdriver, whacked a little boy in the head with a tape deck recorder, whacked another little boy in the throat and testicles with a remote control, and scared a fat girl into quitting a school musical.
So now then.
One recent day, I decided to walk to Burger King for lunch.
On my way there, I was happily talking to myself when I heard the Day-O bum nearby.
I bit my lip and kept walking, all the while wishing he was a werewolf so I could stab him to death.
No sooner had I passed the Day-O bum when I saw another bum taking up a whole bus stop bench for himself. His Royal Homeless sat there listening to a Walkman, his arms nonchalantly spread out like Jesus on the cross, a cup in each hand, expecting deposits like hotel concierges expect tips.
About a block away stood yet another bum, this one on a sidewalk with a coffee cup half full of coins. As I approached him, he shook the cup forcefully, soliciting via the rhythmic sound of coins shaking. I kindly responded via the sight of my middle finger.
Okay, I didn't really, but I pictured it in my head. Too lazy to even beg. Un-fuckin'-believable! I'm sorry, I don't speak Metalian.
I finally arrived at Burger King, totally fuming from brooding over how much I hated bums, and got some food to go.
On the way back, I decided to take another route, hoping to calm down before enjoying my forthcoming meal.
Lo and behold, I soon stumbled upon another bum.
"Yo, can I get some money for a hamburger?"
"Oh… You, you want a hamburger?"
"Yee, I'm rea"
"Okay, I'll get you a hamburger."
I pulled a double bacon cheeseburger out of my bag and threw it at his head.
"Dude, what's your problem?"
"You asked for a hamburger."
"I didn't ask you to throw one at my head!"
"What, did you want me to serve it to you on a silver platter? I don't think you've noticed, but you're a bum. I have money; you don't. I'm the one who gets to be selective in this relationship."
He started to walk away.
"Wait, aren't you gonna eat it?"
"No, I'm not gonna eat it! It fell on the ground!"
"It's still in the wrapper! Unwrap the mother and fucking eat it!"
He started to walk away again.
"The fuck are you doing? I gave you my fucking hamburger, no, my double fucking bacon cheeseburger, and you're just gonna leave it there on the…on the fucking ground? What the fuck! I'm always being guilt tripped into not throwing away food. Think of the less fortunate, they say. Well, I fucking thought of the less fucking fortunate! Now get back here and fucking fulfill your end of the fucking deal! I want to watch you fucking eat it! I want the satisHEY! Are you listening to me?"
He wasn't coming back.
Undeterred, I picked up the cheeseburger, unwrapped it halfway, caught up to him, and tried to force it in his mouth.
He kept trying to block his mouth while pushing me away. This bum's adamant resistance to free food was unprecedented. Then, he had the gall to knock me to the ground and spit what little cheeseburger had come in contact with his mouth on me!
By this time, we were clearly making a scene and, realizing that I had a better chance of feeding the now-deformed cheeseburger to a vegan Jew, I picked myself up, angrily threw the remnants of my lunch at him, and power-walked away.
Yeah, I assaulted a bum. I'm a horrible person.