(This message was edited by legerdemain on 06-21-12 @ 10:24 am EDT)

"We need to talk," said Bill.

"Sure lets talk." Paddy put his pen aside and looked up defiantly. This argument had been a long time coming. Both parties were ready.

"Rents late," said Bill. "Again."

"Really? You think I don't know that? I told you I don't get paid till next week."

"Kitchens still a mess." Bill's tone was even. He was careful not to let the anger he felt distort his reasoning. He didn't want this to disintegrate into yet another screaming match.

"I was just getting to it."

"What's wrong with now?"

"I'm busy."

"Busy writing your stories." Bill had to struggle to keep the irritation he felt rising under control.

"Why do have to say it like that?"

"I didn't say it any way." Bill took a mental breath. Told himself to relax.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot that patronising is your default setting." Paddy felt no such obligation to keep his temper and he let the bile and hatred he felt infuse every word.

"I'm trying real hard here, Paddy."

"Sure you are Bill. It's beneath you to show your emotions, right? It's a lot safer to speak like a robot than to just say what's on your mind." Paddy stood up and started to pace back and forth. "You enjoy these little chats don't you? You enjoy winding me up, you're just going to keep on picking at me till I blow a fuse. That way it's my fault. That way you can walk away and shake your rational head."

"You're drunk again."

"That's right, Bill. I'm drunk. Drunk again. God forbid, that I should have a drink in my own f***ing house!"

"It's not your house, Paddy. It never was. If you can remember what I told you when you first came here." Bills tone had gone from neutral to icy. He could feel himself slipping. Feel the anger pulsing through his veins.

"Yeah, you said, make yourself at home, but I guess that was just more robotic bullshit!"

"I said, you could stay for a week or two until you got back on your feet. That was three months ago."

"So this is it, your kicking me out. Well, big surprise there. I knew were an asshole. Deep down I always knew it."

"God damnit, Paddy. Why do you have to make everything so hard!" Bill had raised his voice, allowed himself to vent a little of his anger.

"Oh oh, the robots, getting aggravated! You know what, Bill. Here's an idea, why don't you just say what's on your F***ING mind!" Paddy was livid now.

"You know what paddy..." Bill stopped, trying one last time to reign in his rage.

"No, Bill, I don't know. I don't know because you're too much of a pussy to tell me. So f*** you. I'll have the rent next week. I told you that, so if your quite done, why don't you f*** off back to robot land and leave me alone with my irrational--"

"SHUT UP! Just shut up, will you! You want to know what I think? You really seriously want to know?"

"I'm begging you, Bill. I'm on my f***ing knees!"

And Bill let the flood gates open. All the held back resentment came pouring out, all the anger and annoyance, he could hold it back no more.

"Your a bum, Paddy. A first class Bum. You can't even hold down a shitty job at K-Mart. You have no notion of respect. You live in your own world consumed by own selfish desires. And the reason you can't get a girlfriend, it's not because you're an 'emotionally honest individual'. It's because you're a selfish prick! And you're a drunk to boot, but I don't blame you for that part, if I had your life I'd hit the bottle too. Hell if I had your life I'd never be sober. I just couldn't face the f***ing mess my life was in. You've got nothing, no skills, no charm, no talent. That's right no talent. I've read your stories, Paddy, and I've been wanting to tell you this for such a very long time, but no one, and I do mean no one, is going to publish them. You live in a fantasy world!"

A silence roared into existence and all the things that Bill had just said seemed to fill it.

"You're a LOSER, Paddy! A f***ing loser, and I want you out of my house and out of my f***ing life! Comprehend? Got it? Or is that too robotic for you?"

Paddy was staring at the floor. "Alright, Bill. You're right." His voice was quiet, different. Bill had never heard him like that before. "You win." He sounded broken. "I'm going back to my parents. I'll send someone round for my things."

Paddy left Bill to the gaping hole his absence made. "I win," he said to the empty room. And his voice was empty, he felt drained, he felt like an ass-hole.