Like An Itchy Rabbit

It has been about a year since I first noticed Woody becoming difficult around other people. We were seated at a local restaurant waiting for someone to come by with our menus, and it was taking a fairly unreasonable amount of time. We were both feeling impatient, but then Woody suddenly lost it. He began to yell and insult the staff, demanding to speak to a manager and making a huge scene. I was completely embarrassed.

That sort of thing began to happen more frequently, and it got to a point where I felt like we couldn’t go anywhere.

Noisy people at the movies. Too many items in the grocery store express lane. Driving too fast. Driving too slowly. Pretty much any situation involving a crying baby. Woody seemed like he couldn’t wait to tell people how they were bothering him.

Then, a few weeks ago, Woody really crossed a line. I had been invited to a birthday party for one of my neighbor’s kids and decided to take Woody along. When it was almost time for cake, one of the kids became very upset. Apparently, the cake wasn’t gluten-free, and my neighbor hadn’t thought to provide any alternatives. Once Woody found out what was happening, he started in on the kid’s mom and really let her have it.

He went on and on about how she should have brought something herself “for her annoying little brat” if she wanted to be “weird about food” and “turn her kid into a nut case.” He might have had a point, but Woody was so loud and offensive about it that many of the guests were upset and we had to leave. After that, I finally got up the nerve to confront him about it, and it did not go well.

He began almost immediately naming all the annoying things about me. “You snore,” he barked. “You fart all the time, no matter where we are. You bite your fingernails on the couch. You’re a loud eater. You have stupid hair.” He went on for some time and when he finally finished with a three-minute rant about how I bounce my leg when I’m anxious “like an itchy rabbit,” I had heard enough, and I fired back.

“Do you think anyone would even talk to you if it weren’t for me?” I yelled. “I gave you a chance and a place to stay when no one else would. I defend you when people make fun of you. You’re nothing without me and all you’ve done for the past year is embarrass me.” It was a spectacular fight.

There were some tears and awkward silence for a while after that, and things between us have been better in some ways and worse in others. Lately, I’ve been wondering if ventriloquism just isn’t for me.

• Written for “Why Does Everyone Annoy me? Do I Annoy Everyone?”