Tonight is "Beggar's Night" in my neighborhood.
That's Ohio for "Halloween".
I live in kiddie heaven, an area where birth control is not practiced or even thought of. You can barely drive down the street on Halloween because it is completely flooded with giggly, sugar-high, costume-wearin' bed wetters. It's an event with a great deal of community involvement. The teenagers use this occasion to dress provocatively and test their sluttiness. The parents dress up too. Like the middle-aged mom who thought that Wonder Woman costume was a good idea. *shiver*
My role in this? I'm the designated "guy who sits on the porch, conceals a beer and hands out the candy when the kids come by so he doesn't have to keep answering the doorbell...guy". I sit there, sip when no one is looking and hand out Twix bars in mass quanity.
*Mmmm...Twix*
I know, I'm health conscious. But it's a holiday. I'm not gonna be that guy who gives out apples or popcorn balls.
Anyhow, for the last two years I've had a problem. He's about 13 years old. Two years ago he took me by surprise. After I gave him and his buddies a healthy dose of Twix, this kid shoves his pillow case back at me and says "Can I have more? My Mom has Cancer".
I about shit myself with anger. I know that if his mom really did have cancer, he would never say that. But I was so stunned, all I could do was reply "That's not a nice thing to say" and he walked away.
So, last year, even though I don't remember what he looks like, I'm waiting for this little ass clown. Wouldn't you believe he comes by and says the same thing again:
"My mom has cancer". *keeps holding sack out*
That time, I reached in the bag and took out a handful of candy (even more than I gave him) and I sort of lost it and snapped: "Get the hell out of here! If your mom had cancer, you would never say that!".
He walks away and as his voice cracks, I hear him tell his buddies: "did you see that guy took my candy?"
I still managed to feel bad about it, because the kid just doesn't understand. His young life has obviously never been touched by someone who has had cancer.
But he'll understand someday. Hopefully a long time from now.
Be very afraid, little punk...
...of me tonight, and of cancer, for the rest of your life.
About Me
- Mick
- In 1968, a baby boy was born and his parents named him Michael. As a cute little zero year old, he had a little round nose and made gurgly noises. But, he also had colic which tired his mama out and his grandmother often rocked him to sleep. One night, while doing this, she nicknamed him "Mickey" and that is why people also call him Mick. He grew up in upstate New York in a place too remote to be called anything. There were a lot of bugs and his Dad yelled at him for using too many paper towels. Little Mickey tried to have fun playing war with his friends and shooting BB guns. He didn't apply himself very much in school and he graduated high school Magne Cum Lousy. One day in 1986 he discovered a lump in his neck which he promptly ignored for more than 6 months. As fate would have it, it was Hodgekin's Disease and after months of dicking around with inept doctors, he promptly underwent aggressive treatment involving brutal tests and chemotherapy. This lasted a year followed by many years of paranoia. This is where he learned to suffer and it payed great dividends. Now he teaches 13th grade at a college in Ohio where he suffers daily.
1 comment:
Good job with that punk. That brat has needs to wake up.
Hopefully others also let him know the comment wasn't appropriate.
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