meatbag
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Have you ever gradually hated someone more and more?
I found myself picking myself up off the ground, blood coming down my face, dazed, wondering what just happened? Someone just shot me in the face while I was riding!
Being about 14 at the time and the proud owner of my 1st hard earned used Yamaha YZ 80, I had just started hanging with the "cool" dirtbike crowd. Girls and popularity followed.
In this crowd was one loud obnoxious chunky statured daddy's boy, I'll just call him Morgan. Dad had bought him a brand new YZ 80, with gear and everything! My dislike started instantly the moment he opened his fat mouth, spewing arrogant boastful remarks about how good a rider he was, how his dad would buy him another bike(even though his WAS new!) and just being irritating in general. I knew my tolerance would be tested and I had no idea what I was in for. I was an innocent little long haired guy who liked bikes, girls and slurpees. Period.
Morgan had a good looking slightly older sister that was popular, which I thought was weird because there was nothing really special about him, just a lot of big talk that hurt my ears.
She would come out to the hills sometimes with her friends and that made Morgan kind of a hit but he was sooo spoilt and arrogant. He would trash his new 80, throw it on the ground, kick it when he was having a temper tantrum and just abuse the poor bike while I had to take care of mine, having parents that were TOTALLY against me having a bike. I did stop smoking just to pay for gas in the tank!
Mom and dad. Ahhhh yes. I was threatened and for-bode by my parents, with threats of torture, grounding and being sent so foreign lands if I ever owned a bike. They would rant, holler, wave hands and regurgitate the evils of 2 wheels continuously at me about it. I was going to get one and buy it myself!
I got a job and worked at a golf course for many months in the summer, which I took my peddle bike to an hour ride each way. It sucked. It rained, was sometimes hot, sometimes cold, plus when it got dark, it was scary going home the gravel hilly roads too. I did it though. I bought an older bike of my sisters boyfriend and snuck it home one night. I was in love but I sure payed hell for it! I was in trouble for days.
One afternoon, I had 21 cups on the counter trying to figure out the crazy mixture of 20:1 when mom finally (just so I wouldn't break any glasses) gave in and helped me mix and figure out the ratio.
Later I opened the walk in garage door and saw my strict accountant stepdad bouncing on the bike. I knew all was good at that moment. Oh yeah. 25 yrs later would help him get a bike of his own.
Morgan somehow got a pretty girlfriend. I was dumbfounded and amazed how such a non personality could do this?? Bastard. Later on in the year his YZ 80 finally bit the bullet and dad bought him a brand new one! a new YZ 100! Argh! My hatred grew....He proceeded to trash that one too, not maintaining or fixing up his crash damage (He wasn't a very good rider). I continued working and bought an older YZ 100. I repainted it all and did some fixing of the mechanical and just plain took care of it. I still had it when Morgan blew up his bike. Hah! But I knew his dad would buy him another one. It made me so sick and angry to see this crap I slowly started hanging out with another crowd, with real people I could relate to more. Glad I did.
Now, when I was getting up off the ground feeling the warm blood drip down my face, a guy ran over to me with a longish pump-up pellet gun in his hands. It was a older kid who lived near me. He stood looking down over my bloody poor carcass and was stunned to see just a little ole young meatbag...me! "I thought you were Morgan!" he said. WHAT?!?! Wait, someone else hated Morgan?..huh... I was happy and enraged at the same time. I sure hated Morgan more than ever though! I really didn't blame the kid for wanting to shoot him. Weird. I got shot because of my nemesis Morgan, and it just missed my eye by 1cm.
My eyebrow hair still doesn't grow there.
I finally had my revenge later after high school when Morgan had to get into the real world and work for what he had. He eventually turned to a alcoholic and abusive bitter old guy. Heh, heh, heh...
I found myself picking myself up off the ground, blood coming down my face, dazed, wondering what just happened? Someone just shot me in the face while I was riding!
Being about 14 at the time and the proud owner of my 1st hard earned used Yamaha YZ 80, I had just started hanging with the "cool" dirtbike crowd. Girls and popularity followed.
In this crowd was one loud obnoxious chunky statured daddy's boy, I'll just call him Morgan. Dad had bought him a brand new YZ 80, with gear and everything! My dislike started instantly the moment he opened his fat mouth, spewing arrogant boastful remarks about how good a rider he was, how his dad would buy him another bike(even though his WAS new!) and just being irritating in general. I knew my tolerance would be tested and I had no idea what I was in for. I was an innocent little long haired guy who liked bikes, girls and slurpees. Period.
Morgan had a good looking slightly older sister that was popular, which I thought was weird because there was nothing really special about him, just a lot of big talk that hurt my ears.
She would come out to the hills sometimes with her friends and that made Morgan kind of a hit but he was sooo spoilt and arrogant. He would trash his new 80, throw it on the ground, kick it when he was having a temper tantrum and just abuse the poor bike while I had to take care of mine, having parents that were TOTALLY against me having a bike. I did stop smoking just to pay for gas in the tank!
Mom and dad. Ahhhh yes. I was threatened and for-bode by my parents, with threats of torture, grounding and being sent so foreign lands if I ever owned a bike. They would rant, holler, wave hands and regurgitate the evils of 2 wheels continuously at me about it. I was going to get one and buy it myself!
I got a job and worked at a golf course for many months in the summer, which I took my peddle bike to an hour ride each way. It sucked. It rained, was sometimes hot, sometimes cold, plus when it got dark, it was scary going home the gravel hilly roads too. I did it though. I bought an older bike of my sisters boyfriend and snuck it home one night. I was in love but I sure payed hell for it! I was in trouble for days.
One afternoon, I had 21 cups on the counter trying to figure out the crazy mixture of 20:1 when mom finally (just so I wouldn't break any glasses) gave in and helped me mix and figure out the ratio.
Later I opened the walk in garage door and saw my strict accountant stepdad bouncing on the bike. I knew all was good at that moment. Oh yeah. 25 yrs later would help him get a bike of his own.
Morgan somehow got a pretty girlfriend. I was dumbfounded and amazed how such a non personality could do this?? Bastard. Later on in the year his YZ 80 finally bit the bullet and dad bought him a brand new one! a new YZ 100! Argh! My hatred grew....He proceeded to trash that one too, not maintaining or fixing up his crash damage (He wasn't a very good rider). I continued working and bought an older YZ 100. I repainted it all and did some fixing of the mechanical and just plain took care of it. I still had it when Morgan blew up his bike. Hah! But I knew his dad would buy him another one. It made me so sick and angry to see this crap I slowly started hanging out with another crowd, with real people I could relate to more. Glad I did.
Now, when I was getting up off the ground feeling the warm blood drip down my face, a guy ran over to me with a longish pump-up pellet gun in his hands. It was a older kid who lived near me. He stood looking down over my bloody poor carcass and was stunned to see just a little ole young meatbag...me! "I thought you were Morgan!" he said. WHAT?!?! Wait, someone else hated Morgan?..huh... I was happy and enraged at the same time. I sure hated Morgan more than ever though! I really didn't blame the kid for wanting to shoot him. Weird. I got shot because of my nemesis Morgan, and it just missed my eye by 1cm.
My eyebrow hair still doesn't grow there.
I finally had my revenge later after high school when Morgan had to get into the real world and work for what he had. He eventually turned to a alcoholic and abusive bitter old guy. Heh, heh, heh...
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