Cackle

by Rachel Harrison

“There it is! Some gratitude. You’re welcome,” he says, smiling. A big dumb, self-satisfied grin. He has no idea how much of an asshole he’s being. I imagine it started in his youth, a few bad off-color jokes that people laughed at to be polite, or because they had terrible senses of humor, or because they were family and loved him so much they’d marvel at anything he said or did, or because his primary audience was a bunch of prepubescent peers. And as time went on, he continued to get this positive reinforcement. If the occasional person didn’t laugh at his bad jokes or bullying or general shtick, he’d assume it was their fault, that they were no fun, sticks-in-the-mud. In adulthood, he’s surrounded himself with like-minded idiots to insulate himself from any negative feedback.