My sons and I went to the Renaissance Festival in Colorado over the weekend. The place covers hundreds of acres and has hundreds of shops, food stops and carny games. Everything is way overpriced just like you'd expect, and it's a blast. With 100% control of my money after the divorce, I decided to spend it on fun with my boys.

The best stop was "Axe throws-5 for $3". It was right next to "Knife throws-7 for $5" and "Ninja stars-5 for $3". All three of them had shitty equipment and wooden walls 20' back that look like pulp from the 10,000+ flat-smacks they took from people who have no clue how to wield a weapon. The Axe booth was the best because of the man running the booth: an exceptionally loud, foul-mouthed, I-don't-give-a-fuck, ugly, crooked-toothed mother fucker. He was balding but had black hair out the sides and a beard, all of it down to his chest. He was 5'9" and easily 270 pounds. It was hot and he was severely sweating through his half-open blue plaid shirt and (closed, thankfully) kilt.

And, he's my king for the day.

My sons and I are next in line behind a 5'5" post-wall, manicured blonde, land whale wearing her cute blouse, cute capri pants, cute sandals and cute painted nails. Why she thought she could throw axes, I'll never know. As she attempts to throw, he is shouting at her at top volume. The smile on his face says "No, really, this is to get you angry so you throw harder to plant the axe" which keeps her laughing, but the eye contact he makes with me tells me … he's MGTOW.

"PRETEND IT'S YOUR EX-HUSBAND WHO ISN'T MAKING HIS ALIMONY PAYMENTS!!" Axe doesn't even make it to the wall. He scoffs.

"YOU NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT!! THIS BURNS CALORIES!!" Axe goes wide left.

"YOUR KIDS AREN'T COMING TO VISIT YOU FOR CHRISTMAS!!" Axe lands at the foot of the wall.

"YOUR BEST FRIEND LIES TO YOU!!" Axe handle bounces off the wall. I'm laughing now.

"YOU'LL DIE ALONE WITH YOUR CATS!!!" Another bounce. She turns around and huffs away. I lose it - out loud, belly bouncing guffaws. I have a hard time catching my breath.

My boys and I move up to the line and I way overpay him saying the extra is for the insults. He pockets it with a Cheshire cat grin. He loves this job hurling insults all weekend long, every weekend. Truly…zero fucks given.