Things came to a head, and Waltre began firing back with as good as he got. It was all brought out into the open where it should have been all along.

"You are rude!" She said.

"I must have caught it from you." He replied.

"When was I ever rude?"

Waltre held back. He wanted to count the ways, but he knew she'd never get it. She was rude all the time. She was arrogant, pushy, self centered, and her selective memory rendered her absent of any understanding of how her behavior could be defined as rude. She was a grabber, a milker of the system, a me first, me me me, and she thought the world revolved around her self deluded head. Her ill thought out opinions were always right, and she formed her opinions on the basis of what was best for herself.

"You are rude all the time." Waltre said.

"And you are a fuckin asshole! You can fuck off." Her daugher cut in.

Her daughter was pregnant by an illigal immigrant from El Salvador that claimed to be part of the dreaded MS13 gang. It was highly unlikely that he was a member of that ruthless pack of savages, seing as the pathetic bastard washed dishes for a living. He had a wife and a child in El Salvador, and he told her from the start that he would not support a baby if they had one. To date, he had milked her savings of around three thousand dollars down to $300.

"Don't tell me to fuck off." Waltre said.

Waltre didn't like to put people in a social class. The British class system that he was born into appalled him. However, the word class still held some meaning for him, but in it's present meaning it was Waltre that put the labels on.

Some people had what the Americans called class. To the Americans the word class means "good" no matter what social class a person is born into. They would say a man has class if they admired or respected him. If they didn't like or respect a man they would say he has no class.

Class, to Waltre, meant a person worthy of respect. Class meant the way a man or woman behaved toward other people. Class meant taking the hard road now and again, and class meant putting other people on an equal level with oneself. The word class, to Waltre, meant being aware of a balance between oneself and other people. To have class means to comport oneself with dignity, self esteem, as well as having esteem for the dignity of others, and the word class means how one comports oneself in the most depressing or challenging of times. Waltre thought that the most important of all thing about class knitted in with integrity, like, being honest with oneself, and then acting out what one feels inside so that it harmonizes with the outside world of other people, and for Waltre, that was what integrity was all about.

In Waltre's mind, the two people in front of him had no class at all.

He ranked them in the lowest class of people. They were the kind of people that Waltre detested. He had put up with them because of his fear of causing a scene, and he knew that any kind of opposition would be the cause of an unpleasant attack on his own fragile sense of integrity.

Ah but there came a time when all fear evaporated like the morning mist, and his anger took over. Some thing inside him clicked into place, and he felt wholeness, and he felt a sense of outrage.

He let them know how he really felt about them.

He linked his inner self to his outer self, and he allowed the harmony to take place.

He felt at one with himself as the words, seemingly coming from nowhere, flowed with an ease that amazed him.

The response was exactly as he had feared it would be, but their words bounced of him like water bounces off a duck.

They hurled their foul mouthed abuse at him, as expected, but it did not penetrate.

"Fuck you." Waltre said.

Then he said: Your rent check is on the table."

Ah but she already had it.

Then they left with a sense of outrage about them.

And I felt GUD. Oh how, did I feel GUD.

Is that all they've got?

One small step for a man, but a huge step for mankind!

Onward and upward.