I need a paintball gun (with ammo) so I can hurt, but not permanently disfigure, a kid – not a little kid being an adorable knucklehead, mind you… a teenager.
A pimply faced 14-year-old teenager whose only life goals right now are scoring porn to relieve his carnal urges (it’ll fall off if you keep doing that!) … and wreaking havoc on other people’s property.
On our morning run, the husband and I witnessed this habitual onanist loitering on a curb with his equally sinful comrades as they waited for a bus to take them to a school that my taxpayer dollars fund (and I will never use). As we were jogging along, our nation’s future swaggered out into the middle of our peaceful suburban street and deposited a Dr. Pepper can on the yellow lines.
“DUDE, DON’T LITTER! PICK IT UP! I SAW YOU PUT THAT CAN IN THE STREET AND IT’S GONNA GET ALL OVER SOMEONE’S CAR!”
“IT’S NOT FULL,” he whined (like he’d just been busted by his Mom in the bathroom, “I wasn’t doing anything.”)
“DOESN’T MATTER – YOU’RE STILL A LITTERBUG. PICK IT UP!”
He made some motions toward the can and made some faces toward me – accompanied by some one-fingered salutes and some choice words referring to me as a “bat-shit crazy old lady.” It is a badge I now wear with honor as I approach my 40th birthday – though I can’t say if said knuckle-dragger actually did pick up the can because we still had 20 minutes to go and were already running late and there were three of them and just two of us, though I can say that my MOST EPIC REVENGE FANTASY EVER did fuel the second half of my run… until I got side stitches and slowed down.
Read on… unless you believe “What about the children?” is a reasonable thing to ask of any politician…
Continue reading Feel My Wrath, Teenage Wasteland! →