Guy Goes Nuts

Smíchovské Nádraží (Laughter-Place Station)

"But where is the commotion?" he thought. It was just him, standing first in line at the window. A young girl with a name tag that said Lučka was washing some dishes with her back to Dore.

He looked at the menu, deciding what to get. Just as he was about to step up and start making his order, a neurotic muscular beefcake in expensive gym clothes cut right in front of him and began shuffling through his gym bag, most likely looking for his wallet. His sweaty, red-faced head was sitting on greasy chiseled back muscles. He mumbled to himself as he dug in the bag with a smoker's voice juiced with testosterone.

Dore was not sure what to order yet, so he stepped aside and stood back to watch. You could hear this meathead's neck rotating and cracking as he scanned the menu with a hyperactive quality to his movement. You could smell how on edge he was, probably on some animal steroid.

The girl asked what he would like in Czech, and after he cleared his throat, he began ordering a very complicated drink order in English, with random Czech words slipped in, almost to show off. I was sure she was going to have some issues with his order. I couldn't even follow. But the girl smiled and turned around to begin working on the drink. He must have been a regular.

He handed her a pouch of powder that she gladly put into the smoothie mix and when pouring, topped the smoothie off to the brim in his own cup. This man got the full service.

His "thank you" was more of a grunt as he slid his gym bag slightly to the side and continued to look at her. An uncomfortable moment swelled as they looked at each other. The girl, confused, the man looked almost comatose with his death stare. He cleared his throat and held out his hand, gesturing with his fingers as to make her come like a dog.

She deserves a true compliment for her patience and understanding. This man was repellent. He then moved the large smoothie to his side and prepared the straw. This took about 30 seconds longer than it should, and once he was finished, he looked at Lučka and waited. He looked impatient and edgy, hunched on his waist to one side. Finally, there was the confused Lučka, looking at this man, unsure what was happening. He held out his hand and said, "My pomegranate protein bar? Could I please have it?" His tone was snooty and agitated. Lučka responded nervously. She was not accustomed to these kinds of situations in English. "I'm sorry. You did not ask for the protein bar." She rolled the 'r' in 'bar' and used the Czech word for protein. You could see that the situation made her uneasy. She showed him the receipt, and he contested, insisting he did. She apologized, handed him the bar, and amazingly did not charge him. He took the bar and made no acknowledgment that she did anything out of the ordinary. Lučka was dumbfounded. "What a repulsive human being." He was so shocked by this man's behavior that when he was asked for his order, he completely forgot what he wanted. He went with his usual: a mix of fresh carrot and orange in a 0.5-liter cup. Also plastic, but he decided to not bother with it. He wanted to say something to her. Apologies or something. He did not know what to say, so he said nothing at all. She seemed over it anyways. But Dore watched her trying to see any reaction; there was none. She handed him the juice, and he thanked her, "děkuji," and left with his juice. He turned the corner, and not 10 feet away, he saw the Muscle man standing by the street, frantically searching his pockets and bag. The more he searched, the more frantic and angry he became. Like a famished man digging in the sand in the Sahara looking for water roots. At first, you could not hear what he was saying. He was talking to himself. But as he dug, you could start to hear what he was saying.

"Where the fuck is it? Motherfucker. I just fucking had it." He continued digging more frantically and more aggressive as he went on. In frustration, he grabbed his smoothie sitting atop a grey electrical box and slammed it against the wall. Grayish-red liquid sprayed all around him, hitting some onlookers. His rage continued. "I just had it!" he screamed while pounding on his legs, drool pouring from his lips after every syllable. "I just fucking had it! Now it's fucking gone! I can't believe this shit! I just bought it! I hadn't even opened it yet." Spinning in place with more leg pounding, "I just fucking bought it too! Forty fucking crowns! Motherfucking God! God, dammit!" He walks over to the smoothie-splattered ground, leans over and screams: "God! Fucking! Dammit!" He starts checking his pockets again, continuing to shout: "I can't believe this. I just can't believe this." Then without hesitation, he puts his hand in his pocket and when he pulls his hand out, the protein bar falls to the ground. He looks at it on the ground and immediately begins screaming with even more rage while kicking a nearby shopping cart. "Ahh fucking damn you!" He picks up the bar and starts verbally abusing it. "God fucking damn you! God damn you! God damn you! Filthy, bastard, ni**er, piece of fucking shit!" He pits the bar down onto the fallen shopping cart and with a final, slow, authoritative curse, like a pastor at the podium condemning the sinners before him, he says, "God...damn...YOU!" brushes off some garbage off the cart, sits down, opens the bar, and starts eating with hungry guts like a pig at a trough. Dore is stunned, but after a moment, all other onlookers go on their way. But Dore is stuck in the spot. "What was that?" he thought.