Ghetto Brats

Last night at around 9:00pm there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find two little boys around 8 or 9 years old. The one with the afro asked "Do you want to buy a chocolate bar to help our school?" The other held out a Caramilk bar.

First thought: It's 9:00! Isn't that a little late to be out fundraising?? And where are the parents?

Second thought: Caramilk? Since when do schools sell Caramilk bars? It's usually those chocolate almonds that are so extremely addictive. Something tells me that that chocolate bar is so hot it's probably melting in his grubby little hands. Somewhere a convenience store is missing some inventory.

Third thought: Ummm... No.

So I politely said No Thank You and closed the door. I few seconds later I looked out and they were still standing at the driveway. They saw me watching and went over to the neighbour's. At that moment Q came storming down the stairs (he wasn't in a good mood to begin with). He'd been watching them from the bedroom upstairs and saw the little bastards spit on my car!

I jumped out of the way as he stormed out of the house, marched across the lawn and into the neighbour's front entranceway.

"I SAW YOU SPIT ON MY FUCKING CAR!! NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!!"

They didn't stand a chance. He marched them out of the house, heads down, tail between the legs and down the lawn to their bicycles where they silently got on and rode away. As we were watching them go down the street our neighbour came out of his house in his robe wondering what the hell just happened. He didn't seem to mind.

Don't these kids have homework? Bedtime? Parents?

Very sad.