Last thursday, I was stoned. Not in the sense of a habitual drug user, but rather in the medieval corporal punishment sense. Not by an angry mob of villagers either, but rather a band of five children ranging from 7-11yrs old (I'm guessing).
I pulled into the downtown YMCA and parked my vehicle, looking forward to a blissful hour of exercise on a warm and sunny day and had just turned to walk towards the entrance when I heard a funny noise.
Did something just hit the car next to me? What the hell?
I turn around and look up to see a group of five little bastards throwing rocks at me, about fifteen feet away and sixteen feet up, sitting in the over hang of the State Office Building. It's kind of hard to describe the environment, but the little bastards must have been tactical geniuses with years of military experience to have picked that spot. There's no way I could have gotten to them if I had tried, and they clearly had the advantage of the higher ground. My only option of retaliation or apprehension would have been to throw the rocks back...and quite frankly I didn't feel like explaining to the police why I had knocked a ten year old out with a fist sized rock.
I sat there, stunned in disbelief that this was happening in broad daylight. All I could offer outloud was a pissed off, "Are you kidding me?"
Then one of the little pricks has the audacity to respond with a confrontational, "What?" This little asshole couldn't have been more than nine years old, and he was challenging me. This is when they directed their attention from throwing rocks at the vehicles and instead focused upon me. Not looking to catch any rather large stones with my teeth, I turned and ran inside to alert security. It was pretty much all I could do. The little fuckers had my balls in a vice grip.
Well, $321.00 in out-of-pocket damages later, and about an hours worth of filing police reports, I finally arrived home. I got my work out in and the little bastards got away. My parents were absolutely thrilled. Those little punks are lucky I have a calm and collective demeanor in such situations, whereas my father would've probably removed their spines from their bodies and be sitting in a cell somewhere awaiting trial. And had the shitstains been but a few years older, I would have gladly put who was faster and stronger to the test. Even if I had chased them down and caught one somehow, I didn't have my cell phone on me and wouldn't have been able to alert the police. With my luck they'd probably start screaming "Stranger Danger" or "Rape" and I'd be typing to you all as a registered sex offender.
The irony in it all? I left an hour earlier than I usually do for the gym so I could make it home on time to watch my favorite television shows at 8:00pm. If I had left at my normal time, it probably would have never happened. I didn't make it home in time for my television shows. Thursday is suppose to be my day of zen and it was going just swimingly until a roving band of douchemongers decided to throw a wrench in it.
I don't know though, I was laughing to myself at the absurdity of it all before I had even arrived home. Maybe I just have a dark sense of humor, but I find justice in the fact that they all have a long life of STDs, unwanted pregnancies, and getting stabbed ahead of them. I can't say that I envy that. I just hope karma really bends them over and gives them all she's got.
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