Arguments are switchblades

I don’t like an argument, but sometimes discussions are necessary. Arguments are switchblades, but discussions are butter knives. That’s why I’ve tried to avoid my neighbor, Kurt, whenever possible.

Kurt doesn’t think like me, that’s okay. But he believes I should think like him. As he sees it, there’s just one truth and, on any given day, it amounts to whatever fool’s gold he’s just digested or fairy dust he’s been smoking. That’s when he sneaks up on me in my garage hoping to goad me into an argument only he can win.

I’ll give him the time of day out of respect, but I know he’s stepped into the ring to fight and feel big about himself. Truth is, I pity him because deep down he thinks he’s small. But yesterday, I ran out of pity.

I said, “Kurt, you have a screw loose,” to which he burst into laughter, thinking he now had me. So I said, “But I have a bigger screw loose for putting up with you, so we’re not gonna do this do-si-do any more.” Kurt’s face turned sour. “So we’re not gonna be friends no more?”

That’s when I said, “You’re no friend. You show up at my doorstep to bully and fight. Friends don’t do that.” Then he got inflamed, “But I am your friend! That’s why I’m trying to get you to see the truth!”

“So you’re the good samaritan trying to rescue me from what—being an idiot?” I asked. “If I’m such an idiot, why do you even want to be friends with me? What’s in it for you?” Kurt shrugged and got real quiet.

I went to the fridge and pulled out a couple sodas. We sat down and agreed they tasted real good, but not as good as they used to.