Kill Them with Kindness

Scraggly Old Dude

A few years ago, I was late to a doctor's appointment so I did what we all do. I drove like an idiot. As I neared my destination, I turned onto a road with a red traffic light. A beat up, green, Hyundai was waiting at the intersection. There was just enough room for my Honda Ridgeline to fit behind the little, green car. Or so I thought.

When the light changed, the car in front of me pulled into my doctor's parking lot while trailing a plume of dark, grey exhaust. As I got out of my car, I noticed this scraggly, old dude, exiting the banged up Hyundai. He made a beeline right for me.

"You know, it's people like you with their big trucks always getting too close!" he yelled.

My first thought was that a Honda Ridgeline wasn't a big truck. The dude was slightly taller than me by a few inches, but no real threat. He had an impressive beer gut which slowed his progress. When he neared, he smelled of booze and BO. I thought,

"There are tall men, and there are short men, but the Colt 45 made them all equal."

Gun owners are always going on about an armed society being a polite society, but I don't think that's true. People are way more aggressive when they're packing hardware. I didn't have a gun, and my second thought was this guy just might. It was a logical conclusion given his advanced age and gut coupled with his brazen desire to tangle with strangers. So I fell back on a tactic my mother used to say I should employ when I was a kid and about to be pummeled by a bully.

Kill them with kindness.

"I'm very sorry, sir," I said.

"Fuck you!" he yelled.

Okay. It didn't work. I pressed on.

"I should be more considerate."

"It's people like you that drive like assholes."

"Yes, you're right again," I said as I began heading towards the office.

"Don't walk away from me!" the old fart yelled.

"I'm late for my appointment, sir," I explained.

He followed me screaming all sorts of obscenities mixed in with my subpar driving ability. I took the blame for all of it and apologized no less than a half dozen times. It was a long walk. As I neared the door, I held it open for my new, fat friend. He looked at me suspiciously then scooted into the office. His Chubbiness walked up to the receptionist person and started barking at her. I decided I would stand unusually close to my loud companion, well inside the HIPAA zone. The receptionist person informed him that he had an outstanding balance.

"I don't got no insurance," the dude whispered.

This was before Obamacare. The guy was one of the 20 million uninsured people that my rates went up to cover. I'm sure the other 19,999,999 are probably way nicer than this disagreeable person (prick).

"I got a agreement with my doctor," he explained.

"Okay, have a seat," the nurse receptionist person said.

Next was my turn.

"How are you on this beautiful day!" I exclaimed cheerfully.

I finished up my business, topped with a copay then entered the waiting area. The scruffy old douchbag with no medical insurance and I were the only two people in there. I sat right next to him.

"You drive like an asshole," he resumed.

"Yes, I know," I said.

The television displayed a story about flood victims in the south.

"Those poor, unfortunate people," I exclaimed.

"Fuck them! They probably deserve it like you," he blurted.

I forged ahead.

"Imagine losing your house and everything," I said as I made the sign of the cross.

The guy looked down to the ground. If there was a shred of decency inside the deep bowels of this turd’s soul, it was playing solitaire by itself. As he looked up, he muttered,

"I guess, I didn't have to be so loud."

"No, you were right. I drive poorly," I said as I resumed watching the television.

A nurse person dressed in an odd mismatch of multicolored floral patterns suddenly appeared.

"Mr. Fitzpatrick," she called out.

The old guy got up. He looked me over and then followed the nurse. As he walked off, he stopped and turned,

"I guess I'm sorry for swearing and all that," he muttered.

"No, you were right, sir. Have a good day," I answered.

He turned solemnly and left and that was the last I ever saw of him. In the end my mother was right. Killing people with kindness works really well and is actually quite a lot of fun. Anyone can succumb to anger. It takes genuine self-control to kill somebody with kindness. So the next time you run across one of these uptight ass hats who played too much contact sports with an improperly fitting helmet, kill them with kindness.

There are tall men and there are short men, but kindness made the short guy taller.

Editor's Note: Originally posted on January 31, 2017.