The Poison Dwarf

Alright, so this is has been on my mind for some time, and I have been toying with the idea of just letting it go, but dammit, y'all know I love to whine and whine.

So here it is, my little rant, and I will try to keep it short.
It is a rant, a dirge, a scat, if you will, about a small pointy-skulled individual who shall remain nameless (but, alas, not lifeless). He is a wee lad, but four foot two, with the intellectual capacity of a pea. When I say pea, I am being kind. Earlier, I compared dealing with him to dealing with a drunk who has just shat himself and who is now picking his teeth with his toenails. If given the choice, I would choose the drunk, hands down, every time.

This is the person, let it be known, that has decided that he would like nothing better than to ruin my life. When I say life, it is important to know that I mean social life, and when I say social life, it is important to draw a distinction between the social life I enjoy and the one which makes me want to stab myself with a fork. Luckily for me, he succeeded in devastating the latter. (What, no more gallery opening invitations?) And yet, I still cannot bring myself to take kindly to the knowledge that somewhere, some new and unsuspecting person's ear is being chewed off by him about what a naughty, naughty girl I am.

Listen, tonto. Get. A. Grip.
It's been almost a year, ok? I know you're just looking out for your friend, but get this: he was a dickhead. Ok?
When someone tells you that the reason they COULDN'T COMMIT TO YOU IN TWO YEARS was because they were a NAZI WAR CRIMINAL IN A PREVIOUS INCARNATION, it's time to leave.
Ok?
There was nothing, NOTHING, more I could do to save that prize of a relationship.

And there is nothing, NOTHING, that will disguise your gossip-mongering hypocrisy amongst the people whom you talk about me to.
Ok?

Rant over.