Last night, at approximately 11:00 pm, a cadre of malicious 10 year-olds perpetrated an act of senseless violence that has rocked our fair city to its core.Materializing out of nowhere, hidden in the concealment of the dark hour, they emerged, enforce, and brought their considerable powers to bear on my unsuspecting vehicle as I made my way home from a late night plying the writing trade.
Without warning, without provocation, a barrage of water balloons were loosed upon me in a furry that had no equal. Besieged on both sides by these pre-teen insurgents, I was forced to lock up the brakes, fall down in the seat, curl up in a fetal position and wonder aloud as to the state of parenting in this country.
At last, mercifully, the assault came to and end with my attackers melting back into the misty night, unseen, undetected, no doubt bolstered in their resolve by the unequivocal success of their latest act of urban terrorism.
In shock, still not quite able to fully grasp the severity of the situation, I emerged from my vehicle to assess the damage. Fear turned to anger as I looked up from my water soaked vehicle and gave out my battle cry. Something guttural, something instinctive, something from deep within the subconscious requiring no forethought or preparation escaped my lips. I am certain that it struck fear into the hearts of my assailants, making them reevaluate their allegiances, their blind adherence to a code of conduct so unbecoming, so tragically untenable. Indeed.
The moon, as it crested past its meridian height, and no doubt the 10-15 nearby neighbors, felt the white hot intensity of my seething anger as I raised my clinched fist and shouted for those misguided hooligans, and hooligans the world over, to hear.
….You….Darn….Kids.
(Oh yes, they’re scared now. No doubt about it.)
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