"Sorry sir, but we'll have to search you," he said in a rumbling baritone voice.
"I've got no time for that, my good sir," I replied in dulcet tones. "My love rival is about to steal away my girlfriend. Just take my word for it that I'm not a terrorist and let me run blithely through the security checkpoint without being searched or detained in any way."
The huge black afro-wearing ex-bodybuilding wrestler with a heart of gold thought for a second. Finally, he replied. "Well, you don't look THAT arabic. It's fine by me. Just promise not to blow anything up."
I thought for a brief second. My fight with my love rival might end up with something being blown up. I decided to be honest. "I'm sorry, Pedro, but that's just a promise that I just can't make."
"Oh well. Through you go."
I pointlessly dived through the checkpoint and ran to the boarding gate. A gaggle of Air Stewardesses (or as they prefer to be known, Air Stewardessi) got in my way, so I was forced to garotte them out of the way, but I finally reached the gate. Just in time, may I add. My love rival and my girlfriend were JUST boarding the plane. I stepped in the way and blocked their entrance.
"I'm sorry, Lucia, I can't let you do this." I said firmly. My rival scowled and drew his sword. In turn, I unsheathed my long, sticky, manly blade.
"Get out of the way, thou clouted beetle-headed haggard!" he cried theatrically.
"Never, you loggerheaded onion-eyed maggot-pie!" I replied flippantly.
"She is coming with me, currish full-gorged flax-wench, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" he retorted belligerantly.
"I won't allow it, you rump-fed ronyon... you'll have to kill me first," I responded courageously.
"Very well, o lumpish toad-spotted joithead. I shall strike you down where you stand," he hissed scurvily.
"Do your best, you fucking cunt."
We had a long and exciting fight in which, sadly, several things WERE blown up and a good deal of innocent civilians were killed. But fortunately, a terrorist was also beheaded in the melee, so I guess it all evened out in the end. Eventually, though, I forced him to his knees, and cut off his earlobes. I then stripped him naked, suspended him from the ceiling with hooks, stuck pins through his jawbone and poured hot oil on him. He ran screaming from the airport. Wuss.
"Hey baby," I said to my girlfriend. "I have seen off my rival. You are mine again. Now gimme some sugar."
Then we pashed like Joe Mangrel and Lynne Scully on heat, and I slung her up on my horse and we rode off into the sunset together. It was jolly exciting.
Ok, so that account may not have been 100% factual. In fact, it may not have been 10% factual. In fact, only the names of the characters were factual. So that's like, what, 3%? It doesn't matter. I think the important message of the day is that I SAW OFF A LOVE RIVAL. Well, I didn't actually SEE HIM OFF, per se, as I didn't actually know he WAS a love rival until he had been TURNED DOWN by my girlfriend, (nobody told me because apparently the general consensus was that I'd find it hilarious and would be insulting... moi?) but I like to think that my spirit was somehow hovering above her computer when she said "Uh babe, I don't love you back. NO, NEVER, not in a MILLION YEARS, I can't BELIEVE YOU WOULD EVEN ASK THAT, WHAT ARE YOU, STUPID?". Or something similar. Actually, it would be with more typos.
For me, the great thing about this situation is that, for once, I am the wounded party. Memo to Nat: I don't care how much you think you were in love with her, she was still MY girlfriend. Therefore, MY property. You're not allowed to steal somebody else's property. That's like petty theft. You are totally in the wrong here. There is no way that you possibly deserve sympathy, no matter how much you try to guilt trip everybody (my girlfriend's kind of slow, so she falls for that kind of thing. Meanwhile, I'm as sharp as a tack, and your powers of guilt-trippery will not work on me, young padawan). So that basically means that I insult/make fun of you as much as I like, and you can't say SHIT. I'll be happily sitting here and typing away, and you'll be sitting in your room in the dark being depressed, contemplating a depressing suicide with an OD of viagra pills, and listening to Linkin Park. The Linkin-Parksters will make it all better. And I've said this before, but I'll say it again: if this was Eastenders, I'd have driven you down with my car, kicked the crap out of you, set fire to your dog and then peed on your mother. So count yourself lucky that all I'm doing is insulting you on my blog.
By the way, notice that I say 'Insulting' and not 'humiliating'. Because I guess that you've been humiliated enough. I mean, just IMAGINE it. Telling a girl that you're in love with her then being TOTALLY REJECTED. She didn't even CONSIDER IT as a VIABLE OPTION. I mean, that must have hurt. Did it hurt, to have been SHOT DOWN THAT BADLY? I mean, wow, your entire world must have collapsed around you as you realised what a total FOOL you'd made of yourself. Really, did you not notice that you two have literally NOTHING IN COMMON? Did the fact that she already had a boyfriend tip you off to the fact that NO, SHE WASN'T GONNA GO OUT WITH YOU? That must have been embarrassing. CHRIST, man, how can you stand the humiliation of having the entire school year know that you asked out another guy's girlfriend, then got turned DOWN? And not just turned down. Turned down is too nice a word, I think that I'd rather say BLOWN OUT OF THE WATER LIKE A CHEAP BRITISH BATTLESHIP IN THE EARLY DAYS OF WORLD WAR ONE. I can't imagine just how awful it must have felt with the sudden realisation of how totally, utterly, fully and incomprehensibly 100% WRONG you were. That must have hurt.
Because of this, I've decided that I'm not going to humiliate or make fun of you any more. There's no point in rubbing your nose in it, is there?
HA HA RINSED.
God, I'm such a smart arse.
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