Pretty hard.
It smacked him on the edge of his ear.
Also pretty hard.
"HEY! Take it easy!" He burst out as a hand automatically reached up to his quickly reddening ear.
Immediately, silence dropped like over the previously bustling living room like darkness. I simply held my gaze to Hector--partly pissed, also partly surprised at the strength of my aim.
He and Darren, a 29 year old Australian coach, have been coming over to my bungalow to drink beers with Kiko over the past two weeks. Not that I mind, but just save for the fact that all they talk about is
1. Banging Girls, 2. Trying to get Sex and 3. Beer.
Did I mention it gets a bit repetitive?
Not my normal choice of conversation topics. But tonight was really the last straw when Hector repeatedly used the word "cunt". Freely. Talking about women he wished/tried/hadn't screwed. Darren (who started the c-word use) tried to rein it in--apologising saying that it really wasn't nice using that word in front of a woman. Fair enough. I raised my eyebrow and kept quiet. Then Hector started using the word. I was quite appalled because I thought a 36 year old writer-wannabe who reads so much would have a little more education and sophistication about him.
But no. He uses it once, twice, Darren tries to get him to stop. By the third time, he was laughing and I decided enough was enough. I calmly picked up the bar (it was the nearest thing at hand), looked at him as he continued smiling, and pitched.
"OWWWW!"
The bar of soap you see above, was the very vain-glorious brick in hand. If you look carefully, you can see a perceptible crease across the top.
I think he deserved it. And I would've done it all over again.
No decent, self-respecting woman would take that crap. Least of all in her own home.
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