How I Almost Got Into a Fight that One Time

or: Another Reason Why I Love Electricyoak

One night, a very long time ago, I attended some random house party on the Hill. I knew one of the guys in the house, but not very well, and a couple of my friends and I ended up congregating by the door.

Other guests would walk in and look at us expectantly, then worry about being in the wrong place because they didn’t know us. So after a couple of nervous encounters, I started a “Welcome!” speech. People would walk in, look uncomfortable, and I would spout enthusiastically, “Hey! Come on in! Most people are in the dining room, you can put your coat upstairs, there’s booze on the table, and the keg is out back.” Most people responded by giving me a relieved smile and moving along, leaving me and my friends to drink in peace.

I was getting good at the spiel - in a “Hi, welcome to Bennigans, how many are you tonight?” kind of way. After hearing my greeting, one woman asked “so where’s [Guy Who Lived There Who I Didn’t Know]?”

“I have no idea,” I replied. “I’m just saying hello.”

“Whatever, Drunk Girl,” that horrible woman sneered. And then she flicked me on the forehead. SHE FLICKED MY FOREHEAD! This person I didn’t know, to whom I was just trying to be friendly, assaulted me. Okay, maybe assaulted is a bit much, but she did flick me. Oh, how I hated her with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. But, I was kinda drunk, so I just stood there, stunned, as she went to find whatever-his-name-was.

A bit later in the evening, I saw her again. “Hey, you’re that really ‘nice’ woman who was rude to me at the door!” I shouted fake-sweetly. As I was about to punch her in the face, Electricyoak, who was walking behind me, shoved me forward so hard I had to struggle to get my balance. By the time I was properly upright, that wretched bitch was out of slapping range.

“But, but. . .” I sputtered.

“Keep walking,” Electricyoak commanded.

So I did. We got more beer. I “simmered down” (Electricyoak’s term). Electricyoak had served as my conscience, my Jiminy Cricket, my better judgment. I explained to someone else why I was so pissed.

“Wait, she flicked you?” Electricyoak asked.

“Yes! At the door! You didn’t see? You were standing right there.” I was suddenly indignant again.

“Well, shit. I didn’t know that.” Electricyoak offered. “I would have let you hit her.”

She probably would have kicked my ass.