Chapter 2: Bigger Smaller

I woke up the next morning feeling pretty good about myself. the eggs I made for breakfast were no different than the ones I made the yesterday but these tasted better. Everything felt lighter. The constant onslaught of bad news in the paper or on the TV even seemed like white noise compared to the fulfilling sensation of what had happened the day before. Then... my friend, and I use the term loosely, Kyle came over.
Kyle thought he knew me too.
People always think they know a nice guy.
I liken my relationship with Kyle to that of Biff and George from the Back To The Future movies. He thinks I'm a nice, and weak, guy that he can take advantage of. Hell, I let him. I didn't want to take the chance of pissing off the one friend I had that came over to hang out with me. By hang out I mean eat all of my food, make cracks at how I looked, leave a massive shit in my bathroom toilet, and just be a total dick.

Kyle was wearing his black, form-fitting shirt and skinny jeans today. He must be going out somewhere to pretend he's hip.
I fucking hate fake people. I hated myself for so long because I was one of them.
He asks me at the door if I have any beer. I slam the door in his face because he has officially killed my good mood. There is this deep burning feeling I get in my chest and eyes when people ruin a good thing for me. That feeling like when you've been sitting too close to an open flame for too long and everything feels hot like you're cooking in an over.
Kyle the dick bangs on my door cursing at me like I should be impressed or give a shit. Finally after I down a glass of orange juice he stops. I go to put the glass in the sink and he kicks the door. The noise startles me and I drop the glass on the floor, where it shatters into hundred of tiny, unusable, but very bad for bare feet, bits.
I yell to Biff, Dick, Kyle... whatever, that I'll just be a minute as I walk back to my living room. I pull on my boots. Black sketchers are good for formal wear as well as creating imprints in people's hind-flesh. As I'm tying the last boot I see a sharpie and get an idea.
Kyle's there waiting like a moron when I get back. He looks at me annoyed and asks where the fuck I've been. I smile. I like smiling. He gives me a quizzical look as I motion for him to enter still smiling. He then heads predictably for the fridge. As he passes I slip a sketcher in between his skinny jeans. He doesn't fall but corrects himself turns around ass if to strike but stops short looking at my smile with a slight twinge of something slowly crossing his eyes with all the tell-tale signs of what seems to be fear. He then shrugs as if not to care, though I'm pretty sure it was a self assuring shrug that "this guy wouldn't try shit with me" kind of deal. I laugh.
He spins again this time asking what I'm "fucking sun shining about". His glare puts up a macho facade of controlled anger, but his voice is the give-away this time. There is a slight quiver in his words. The control in his face disappears when step into him. I stop and inch from his face and let my smile fade away.
It doesn't take much from there on. I only nudge him a little with the palms of my hands flat against his chest and he goes down like there was a trap door opening beneath him. As he moves to get up I place my left sketcher on his stupid form-fitting shirt to reassure him that he'll get up when I like.
It's now that the sharpie comes into play. I knelt down so that my knee was on his sternum and told him if he struggled I'd crush his rib inward puncturing his heart and lungs. I think I smiled too sadistically because silly Kyle believed me. I pulled out the sharpie and wrote "door mat" on his forehead. It was only after I finished writing that I saw the undeniable terror in his eyes. The big bad bully had fallen off his horse and found that on the ground he was no bigger than all the other he used to walk through.
Feeling like my point had been made I looked him dead in the eye and said, "Welcome to everyone else's life." Then I got up and leaned up against the kitchen table making no movements as he slowly got to his feet. I wasn't smiling anymore. Inside I felt bad for sinking to his level. I didn't like it on the other side.
Kyle didn't say another word, he just left quietly until he got to the door and then he ran as fast as he could in his skinny jeans.
Putting the sharpie down on the counter I smirked knowing that I would never see Kyle again. I knew I would sleep well yet another night.