Wednesday, July 16, 2008


Neighborhood kid comes up to me while I'm walking my dog. "What kind of dog is that?" he asks. "A whippet," I say, "like a small greyhound." The kid mumbles something I take to be "He's pretty." "Thanks," I say. "He's skinny," the kid repeats, with consonants this time. "Oh yes," I say, "really skinny." The kid is blunt and expressionless, almost like he's poking my dog or me with a stick when he talks, shows no interest in petting the dog or making further small talk with me. He has the head-shape and facial expressions of a cantaloupe. I think it's the same kid that came up to me a few weeks ago and asked whether my dog was peeing. "Yep." What more could I say? Hardly worth discussing the obvious. I'm not crazy about kids in general and tend to talk to them as if they're adults--small, dumb adults. Not that I hate them or anything. I just don't see the innate charm of being a kid--no more than I'm wowed by infants, teens, ingenues, young adults, the middle aged, or the elderly. What's so endearing about being a certain age? And this kid's an asshole. It's my intuition anyway. I don't have the evidence to prove it, but I'm starting to take notes.

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