...I fuckin hate kids – well, not all kids but most of them...
I was at a house today, one I’m considering buying; it’s a dump, and therein lies its beauty, for after I lay my rather inventive hands on it, it has every chance of being a jewel.
Anyway, I’m at this place looking it over and talking with the agent, (the only agent so far who seems honest…);it’s occupied by what my Antipodean hosts oft refer to rather cruelly as a “fat bush pig”. Unfortunate woman. And stupid too no doubt as with her are four offspring around the ages of 10 to 13ish.
We’re in the kitchen when suddenly one of the brats runs in, “mister, mister, one of your dogs is outside your ute”.
I know this, it’s Scoob; he can’t help himself – just has to know what’s goin on, but I’m prepared for it from months of experience and I have him tethered so whilst he can leave the ute, he can’t go very far.
“I know”, I say to the kid, “he’s tied up”.
The kid turns and runs out. As he does so I say, loudly and clearly, “Don’t go near him”, then as an afterthought, louder, in case in his haste, he didn’t hear, “STAY AWAY FROM HIM!”.
I finish my conversation and return to the stoop outside – where I see all four of the wee bastards, hovering round Scoob, who’s being Scoob – pleasant, tail wagging, unagressive. The picture of placidity.
However, I know the risk. That one of them might inadvertently pat Scoob’s behind (or that general region). Scoob doesn’t like that, right or wrong he just doesn’t and even I can barely get away with it so strangers…?
Soon enough they move away though and with panic averted I relax a bit and return again to my conversation with the agent.
Next time I look, two of the wee fuckers have their noses stuck through the window of the ute having a good look.
“HEY!” I shout, “GET YOUR NOSE OUTA THERE!”
The two wee bastards look at me with pure insolence on their face, seemingly so out of control that they’d been a while since being spoken to that way.
They begrudgingly withdrew. I left.
How about you control your fuckin offspring love?
Is it any wonder...?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
` People are weird. I learned this today.
Children are people?
Gosh - now that IS scary! lol
OK - my own horror story from today! Three nasty little buggers, aged about 6-10 which I encountered as we were coming home tonight. We had just got out the car and were heading up the steps to the door when these three monsters (1 boy and 2 girls) came shrieking up the path in high delight - it wasn't until one of the neighbourhood cats hurtled out of a bush that I realised what the little horrors were up to! Fortunately the poor cat managed to get through the electric gate into the carpark as it was shutting whereupon the kids launched themselves at the gate, screaming and shaking it like things demented! It all happened so fast that I only managed to react as they grabbed the gate. I did my best "Excuse me, what do you think you are doing?" followed by a "stop that at once and behave yourselves!" I am assured by children all over Zambia that this voice is The Voice to end all disagreements and backchats!
The little beasts did stop - they looked a little shocked that someone would DARE to suggest they should behave and then ran off down the road. An ungenerous thought ran through my mind - do you suppose their mother had sent them out to play in the street in the hope that they might get run over??
These were small children - yes children, not 'young people' (god I hate that term!) - is it any wonder that our youth are such a handful when kids this age can get away with this sort of behaviour and are allowed to run around the neighbourhood like mini terrorists?
As I said, Jayney - wee bastards runnin riot. And this all starts with the parents not disciplining them. Of course, thanks to our respective governments pandering to the bleeding hearts, parents are at times reluctant to hand out the whallop that's so desperately needed for fear of being labelled "abusive".
Tch - gimme strength!
Nice to hear from you again, Jayney. Do call again.
Post a Comment