I'd Rather Not

So there is a lot of things in this world that I would rather not be doing. I do them anyway, not out of feelings of responsibility, because I have none, but because there just doesn't seem to be any way not to do them. How do you tell your boss that you would rather not work, but would like to continue to be getting paid? How do you tell your significant other that you would rather not listen to their breakdown of the days events? How do you tell your friend to shut up? How do you tell that chick at the bar that you are done buying her drinks and its time to put out? All these are important questions that we deal with everyday. And yet, despite our misgivings, we go along with anyway.
If I had a nickel for every story I listened to that bored me to tears or every problem I consoled my friend on that I cared less about, I would be rich. Of course, it would be all in nickels, but I think I could spend my days rolling them up and lugging them to the bank with little or no issue. My ears seem to be the waste basket, that my friends and family pour their garbage into. I wish I didn't care. I wish I was so angry and spiteful that I could spit their problems in their face, and tell them to get out of mine. I wish I had a gun.
Than there are situations, which don't directly involve you yet somehow you find yourself right smack dab in the middle of. How many people have that friend who just got married. Probably quite a lot. As you get older, so do your friends, and occasionally one of them gets caught in the sticky spider web of matrimony. My friend, lets call him John, is that very bug, being spun up by his big black widow of a wife. Soon his juices will be completely sucked out, and he will remain and hollow and dry husk of his former self. I see it happening. Its like watching a train wreck in slow motion. You want to stop it but you are in slow motion too and you cannot intervene. Though that doesn't stop it from taking out your yard, or your car, or your leg.
So heres John. Younger than me by years, but older by responsibility. I will be over there, at their house, just hanging out with my boy, playing some video games, smoking some reefer. You know, having a good time. Than in comes wifey. She gives him dirty looks and a nod, and next thing you know we are smoking in the basement. Than, later, he gets another dirty look and a nod, and we are smoking outside. How long before he quits smoking altogether? Soon, by the way I judge things.
I strayed a little but I will get back on point. She wants a kid. He does not. She will mention how she wants to have a child and she doesn't think it wrong to bring this up when I am sitting there. I can hear his soul die just a little every time the subject comes up. How do I tell her I don't want to hear this? How do I tell her that the conversation makes me uncomfortable? How do I tell her to leave my friend alone, that he is too young, that she is a devil woman trying to kill any joy he might be able to squeeze out of life? Can I grab her? Shake her and yell "Leave him alone, wench! He will have a kid over my dead body!" If I did that, she might kill me. So instead of doing what I want, I do what I must. I sit there, snicker a little under my breath, and pray she leaves the room. Than I get us really high. I'm talking super high. So high that the air gets thinner and the stars show through the sky.
I guess thats how I deal with most of life's little problems. I suck it up at the moment, than go else where and blaze a fat bowl straight to my dome. Maybe if I smoke enough I can kill the brain cells that house those painful memories, and continue on with my life worry free. Some might say "Mike, do you want to be retarded?" I say this, YES. Have you ever seen how a retarded kid lives? They are happy all the time. Imagine never growing up. Like Peter Pan, only instead of flying and fighting pirates, you eat ice cream and watch cartoons.
I would continue but it is bumming me out, so I am going to go off and smoke a fat one than play some GTA.