My Natural Enemy

My natural enemy is a half British-half French, Steelers fan, who has a career in finance or politics (but he really doesn’t do any work), he cheats on his wife, he doesn’t tip and he’s illiterate. He’s a management level Scientologist whose investment portfolio is diverse and whose assets helps with his regular donations to Republican PAC’s. He mostly watches the Discovery Channel and hunts animals he doesn’t skin himself or eat. He prays to himself and finds Dane Cook to be hilarious.  He plays Xbox Live more than he talks to other people. He drives a white F150 and doesn’t ever put anything heavier than his golf clubs in the bed. He borrows tools and doesn’t actually use them. He always leaves the heat on because he doesn’t want to come home to a cold house. His favorite band is U2 and he gloats about getting backstage passes. He tells people when his birthday is coming up, and when it is his birthday. He comes from a privileged background and knows no hardship. He gets his daily opinions from the editorial section of the New York Times (read out loud to him by his cuckolded wife, as he is illiterate) and doesn’t bother with the rest of the paper. He tries to control everything in his world, fails, but still operates under the assumption he has control. He brags about his earnings on Facebook.  He doesn’t have any friends, only acquaintances. He throws away the heels of bread loaves. He calls every food-service employee “Sir”.  He uses a Bluetooth device.  He resents his mother. He thinks he is complicated but he is really very simple. His needs override everyone else’s needs. He pays for guitar lessons and doesn’t practice.  He vacations.  His love is a form of hatred.

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