AND WE DON'T CARE ABOUT THE YOUNG FOLKS

What old men who sit in their houses and yell at kids on their lawns don't tell you is that they aren't yelling because they're cranky, but because it's actually kind of fun.

The kids in my apartment building are mostly pretty good. There was a short while one summer where the Mexican kids kept trying to steal the Badtz Maru pencil sharpener that propped my window open, not because they were bad kids but because they were fascinated by it, as any kid would be, and didn't seem to understand that it could bring the window crashing down on their fingers. My friend Terry gave me some Spanish phrases to shoo them away with, but their little kid sixth sense must have warned them because they stopped before I could try them out. (One of the kids loves Spider-Man, and that's what I always call him, so if you ever have Spidey stuff you want to get rid of, send it to me.)

The first time I ever yelled at any of the kids was when a couple of boys were throwing healthy-sized rocks at each other. Not only did I fear for their skulls, but I didn't want one coming through my window so I told them to knock it off. They immediately snapped to and started stating their defenses. Neither of them had started it, to hear them tell it, and I told them, "I don't care who started it. Just knock it off before you get hurt!" They gave me no trouble, and I kind of liked how quickly they fell in line--even if I can hear my own father when I raise my voice. Funny how that sneaks up on us, isn't it?

Today, though, was a total blast. I was sitting here typing when a water balloon exploded all over the window by my desk--which was open enough that we could get air in here, but not enough for Sadie to squeeze through. No water actually came in, but Sadie was sleeping on the window sill and she freaked out. (She hasn't come out from under the bed even though a couple of hours have passed.) So, I yelled at the two boys--one who had been a rock thrower--and told them to watch it. "We didn't mean it," the boy said, repeating his pattern of defensive bullshit. "I know," I said, "but I'm sitting here, so be careful. You got me wet." Which was a total lie, but whatever. I don't believe he didn't mean it. I think he was trying to scare Sadie and just didn't see me sitting there because, if there's one thing I've learned about kids, it's that they aren't very bright.

A little bit later, I'm sitting and watching TV in my living room, shades mainly drawn. No one can really see in, but I can see the courtyard through the opening in the window fan. There's a loud bang at my door, and I realize that the kid who said he didn't mean it has lobbed another balloon right at my door. His friend comes running over, and the liar points at what he did, and they start laughing. As they do so, the liar goes into his apartment, leaving his friend standing there, giggling and staring at my door.

"Keep laughing!" I shout.

The kid flinches, and then freezes there, his shoulders hunched. He looks around at the windows above me, not sure who is yelling at him, unable to see me through the window fan.

"That's right, dumbass! I can see you! Why don't you go get another balloon, and we'll see who laughs!"

With that, the second kid fill his pants and totally high tails it back to his place. It's like a Scooby-Doo gag, where Scooby is frozen and then suddenly only a puff of smoke remains where the dumb dog once was. When the liar emerged from his apartment, yet another balloon in hand, he was totally baffled. He went off in search of his friend, and any time they've come back this way since, they run at full speed into the apartment and shut themselves inside; when they come back out, same thing.

I actually went looking for my water pistol in hopes that they would try something and I could ambush them, but they're too wussy to mess with the geezer!

Current Soundtrack: Nico Fidenco, Black Emanuelle's Groove

Current Mood: predatory

e-mail = golightly at confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * My Corporate-Owned Space * ComicSpace * The Blog Roll * DVDTalk reviews * My Books On Amazon

All text (c) 2007 Jamie S. Rich