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| Kids, The Other White Meat |
The other day I was thinking about the way to cure cancer and I... okay I wasn't thinking about that but I was deep in thought, specifically staring at someones chest and thinking of the best way to approach her. At first I thought using the old "Hi, my name's Johnny, can I feel your tits?" but I decided against it. Then out of nowhere this fucking kid blindsides me and just starts talking to me like he's mine. "You have really cool hair." he says. "Thanks." I'm trying to be nice but his bulbous child face is blocking my view and I love summer because that's when the tits come out of hibernation. He's just a kid, I think to myself.
You can't get mad at a kid. Don't get me wrong, I don't personally have anything against kids except for the fact that they are probably going to grow into stupid adults but I cannot tell you how honestly annoyed I was.
"So do you like Pokemon?"
oh god, no, I thought that trend was over, I thought there would be no more of this, oh kill me now.
"I guess so." I saw the kid's mom watching and smiling, obviously overjoyed that I had been volunteered to occupy her annoying kid's attention.
It was only then that I noticed that by being nice I had opened a flood gate. He started fucking bombarding me with facts and trivia about Pokemon at 9,000 miles an hour. I couldn't process all of the information at once I was just hypnotized by the sheer velocity at which his words came out. as he got more excited about what he was saying I noticed that he had abandoned the prospect of syllables and basic language structure entirely instead adopting the speech patterns of a long term speed freak.
I was dumbfounded and I half wanted to ask him if he was even talking anymore of if the android sound device that controlled his voice had broken and I was just getting some kind of electronic feedback. I was wrong, and I have never in my life been more unhappy. I spent at least five minutes sitting there and waiting for the little guy to take a breath longer than a second for me to say uh huh or yeah or oh wow but it never happened. I seriously think that talking at that pace would be a more strenuous endurance trial than fucking soccer but he talked like a trooper.
Little known to me, the object of my momentary affections had already left and I was still caught in the conversation from hell. I couldn't leave for fear of being rude because although it kills me to do it I have been trying to be nicer to people out there in the day to day world. It wasn't the kid';s fault that he fucked up my afternoon, he couldn't possibly know what was going on. it was at that moment that I really took a mental assessment of the person I was dealing with.
on the surface he looked like a normal 10 year old kid, too long hair hanging in his face messily with a Pokemon shirt on and glasses that would have gotten your ass kicked where I went to elementary school. Then I had this horrific moment of prophesy when I saw through him. He suddenly looked twenty years older, gained five hundred pounds and the Pokemon shirt fit very badly. I saw what he was going to become. He was one of those creepy basement dwellers that writes his name on the orange juice and tells his mom to make him sandwiches all day.
That's when I decided to do something about this before society birthed another one of these rejects. "You know there is something cooler than Pokemon out there."
"I don't know about that." he said grinning.
"Old Horror movies."
"My mom won't let me watch them she says they rot your brains."
So this woman, the enemy as far as I'm concerned, decided that classic wholesome American horror flicks are bad news the kind with no violence and bad special effects but this kid sitting around and playing Pokemon all day is great. I shuddered and walked away. God I love kids... on toast.
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Posted by DeeperDarker on 2009-07-02 11:37:23 | Rating: | Views: 179
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