three year olds and younger like to talk to me

[goatschool]

walking to bank, small boy on sidewalk, unsupervised: "mumble mumble hi!doyouknow fordero morissuskkio lakjsdaksjd???"

me: "hi. what did you say?"

3 year old: "do you know who forder morissusskio lakjadsjkasldaslk?"

me: "who? no, no i don't know!"

boy: "forder morissusskio!"

at this point i glance at his grandfather(?), an elderly man sitting on the porch, fixated on a radio playing dance music. he does this every summer, i notice. no fucking help from him.

me: "okay, well. i don't know!"

boy: "you going home now?"

me: "yeahhhh... byyye!"

go to bank. get scraps of money. deep in thought, heading home on opposite side of street, i hear:

"HEY DO YOU KNOW FORDER MORRISSUSKIO?"

"HEY WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO - YOU DON'T TALK TO PEOPLE LIKE THAT!" (the mom?)

:Spin:

 

[minxnim]

you meet the weirdest people (me included)

 

[deadair]

nick... you need to write a book...

just short little stories about your travels and the people you meet.

i'd read it.

 

[minxnim]

don't write about me! i'll sue!

 

[deadair]

oh, and nick, i know why your stickers aren't there yet...


it got returned to me... PM my your addy, i need to double check it

 

[xfer]

the U.S. postal service does not allow for typos!

 

[goatschool]

don't write about me! i'll sue!

our stupendous first meeting consisted of hanging out on a park bench for a few hours - the scandal!

the second time, i could write about, actually.

jake - will do in the next few minutes

 

[deadair]

sorry about all this

 

[goatschool]

¿no es problema, gringa?

 

[deadair]

::gasp::

don't call me a girl

 

[goatschool]

well here's an addendum:

i drove to the library tonight. i decided that i would drive past the library, out into unexplored territory. it was something. then i turned around and eventually pulled into a convenient store sort of thing to get some coffee.

the place is swarming with kids. as i leave, two, say, 8 or 9 year olds run in front of me in order to get to their mini-van first, before their clan does. but the two of them can't quite open the door.

using my superior height and strength, i push it open for them. i neglect to remember that my pushing hand is my coffee hand. and it is directly over the shaved head of boy 1.

i splatter more than a few drops of hot coffee on his skull. he indeed notices.

me: "OOOH. SORRY!"

he: "..."; sheepish grin, revealing face smothered with crusted-over ice cream or something shit-brown

me: "SORRY - DID I HURT YOU?"

he: "... NO!"

me: walk to car

he, to supervising adult: "HE SPILLED COFFEE ON ME HEAD"

me: ah fuck

she: "OH WELL NOW YOUR MOM IS GONNA THINK YOU WERE OUT DRINKIN'!"

me: rotten humans, a pox on thee

them: distant chatter

me: "a far hour shall wreak
The deep prophetic fulness of this verse,
And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse"

 

[VangelicSurgeon]

swoon