Unprovoked, though, I can usually keep things rated PG when there are children around. Especially little kids. Or Mo, who isn't so little but there's the echolalia thing.
Provoked, no guarantees. My middle finger landed me a citation for supposedly disorderly conduct in Olathe last October, and while I managed to dodge a conviction (both because the cop in question was way, way out of line in charging me with that, and because the prosecutor and police turned out to be too lazy to actually bring it when the court dates—yes, dates, plural) I endured plenty of stress and wasted time over the whole affair.
Which is to say I'm not a prude. When Em was two, she smashed her thumb something awful one time and through her tears choked out, 'Gaaawd dammmmiiiit!'
And I was like, well, this is exactly when something like that fits. How could I bust her? She didn't learn that line from the cats.
Anyway, so me and Mo were at the Purple Park to commit vertical mayem with our rockets and try to cover as much of the park as possible with sidewalk chalk.
A couple of teenagers were shooting hoops and across the parking lot I hear a voice shouting obscenities and threats and them.
First I feared an altercation, but as the fat, shirtless teenager came over to the basketball court I realized they knew each other and were on friendly terms.
This obnoxious child kept it up, though, shouting 'fuck' and 'shit' and 'motherfucker' every time he remembered he wasn't mute. 'Pussy, I'll kick your fuckin' ass!'
Untitled from Chixulub on Vimeo.
I was going to go say something, but with his posse (and an ever-growing posse it was) on hand, I figured it would be counterproductive. The twerp already seemed to think he had something to prove by bellowing this nonsense, and I feared if I went over there, we'd only prove that I'm actually capable of punching a teenager.
I debated about calling the cops, but I kept thinking the kid was about to wind down and knock it off.
There were several very young children riding around the parking lot on bikes and running around (after my rockets), so I wondered if he'd ever notice he was shouting this stuff in earshot of what amounts to a kindergarten class. Silly me.
We hears sirens, there must have been a fire or something because all the DPS vehicles when screaming down 56, and this little boy told me the cops must be coming because that guy was shouting bad words.
I perceived that the punk had gone over to the row of townhouses that face the park, and I watched to see which one he went into. He didn't enter one, but he hung on the porch of one for awhile.
When he went silent, I figured that must mean his folks were home, and they seemed to be exactly who I really wanted to talk to. They're in a much better position to humiliate this dirtbag, assuming they're actually parents and he's not being raised by cable TV.
Arriving there, I found three adults socializing and when I asked where the fat kid with no shirt or common sense was, they said, 'Keith?'
Some teenagers showed up, including a couple I'd seen in the horde in the park. The adults told them I was looking for Keith, and a girl said, 'He left. He doesn't live here.' Then she offered, 'He's a tard.'
I also learned from these kids that Keith is older than I thought: eighteen. I'd have guessed fifteen at most. If he doesn't mellow out, I doubt he'll see 21. He's bound to run that mouth around someone who doesn't have a sense of humor.
I had the impression at this point that the handful of teenagers who had showed up were relatively civilized. But one had parked where it was blocking my way out. I asked if there was a way around the building because I couldn't tell if the parking lot wrapped around. 'No but if you want to back up over there, I'll fuckin' move my car into this slot so you can get out.'
That was his exact phrase, that he'd fuckin' move his car. What a civilized kid.
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