The Guy

This guy was everything I hate about everything. And yet, he was so perfectly hateable, that I'm not sure if I hated him.

He was a jock. He had broad shoulders, perfect posture. A complete asshole. I met him in the elevators.

He had this racing motorcycle type jacket on, with a jock haircut, and basketball shorts. On the motorcycle jacket was a map of the world, all done in white with outlines representing the countries, with flags over top of certain countries.

He mentioned to his buddy (that's what they call their friends) "Going to the gym?"

The friend replied yes.

"Fuckin' a."

With that, he left.