A Trenchant Wit

A Trenchant Wit

September 15, 2024

“If your mama had as much sticking out of her as she had sticking into her, she’d be a porcupine.”

Alex was at his best when he was at his worst.

“Light travels faster than sound. That is why you seemed intelligent until you spoke.”

“If laughter is the best medicine, your face must be curing the world.”

Not all enjoyed his witty repartee.

“I am jealous of all of the people who have yet to meet you.”

“You look like something I would draw with my left hand, drunk.”

Alex wanted to be liked. He wanted to be the center of attention within his small circle of friends.

Every once in a while, Alex could hold his tongue. He could walk away, knowing he permitted a prime opportunity escape.

Every once in a while.

But not today at the local pub.

There, Alex encountered someone who did not wish to participate in Reindeer games. Alex (maybe, no wait, definitely) should have read the room and passed.

But he didn’t.

Alex was patient. He waited until the other patron did something worth a comment.

“You are so useless. I would unplug your life support to recharge my cell phone.”

Soon after, shots fired.

“By that I mean, the patron took the initiative and shot Alex. We all saw it. Alex had it coming.”

I told this to the police when they arrived. The patron laid his firearm on the table and finished his beer before turning himself in.

Alex lay bleeding on the floor. Eyes open. Shock on his face as if rigor mortis already set in.

My friends gathered to confer. We had to say something before they took Alex away.

I gave it my best shot.

“Roadhouse.”

The bar’s crickets came out in droves for the next few moments.

At least the beer was cold.