Whigger
OK, OK. The title is misleading. I am sure the more acceptable term is "Whitefrican-American". Or, it might not be. Whatever. The point is, we had our little episode with one of the little thugs last night.
We were at the movies and had just finished up. My brother and wife had gone on outside while I stopped to admire the decor and make use of the facilities in the spacious, and surprisingly clean, mens room. It was here that I urinated, washed my digits (yes, really), checked the mirror, thought again about teeth caps and, to the best of my knowledge, did not run into any little white thug boys.
Upon leaving the mens room, seeing as how my "bidness" at the theater was finished, I headed for the exit. I spied thug boy, but didn't think anything of him as we're getting pretty full up with the little posers these days. The closer I got to the exit the more I could tell he was tying to nonchalantly get to where he could slip in behind me leaving. So, as I exited, I pushed the door shut behind me even as he was trying to hold it open.
"Hey, man!", he said to me, looking up through droopy eyelids. "Sorry. You don't get to go in that way", I replied. (I think I will replace curse words with the names of vegetables for the duration of this conversation.) "What the rutabega is it to you, man?" "Oooh, I'm sorry little boy. You don't get to talk to me like that." "Hey, carrot you, mother lettuce. You faggot." At this point he puffed up his bony little chest in what I assume was a threatening manner. So I just smiled and told him, "You might want to back down. Me and my brother will likely kick your spud if you come any closer." This was, of course, news to my very large, yet slightly pacifist brother.
Blah, blah, blah...he kept on posturing and I mostly just started walking away. Except when I told him I would spank him. But I was just fooling. I didn't really plan to spank him, just alluding to the fact he was not near old or big enough to be the manly thug he thought he was.
Now, one thing neither he nor I had counted on was the wife breaking free from me and scooting over there herself. "Come on, boy! Come on. Let's go. You want to do it. Come fight." She's a little fiesty. I've had to pull her away from street fights in Bangkok. That she started. Twice. So, I came over and herded her away from this one, too. Bro D says I should have let her continue. He says tuff boy would not have known what the heck to do with a face full of pissed of Nong to deal with.
I got her moving back to the car and he fell in behind us, shadowing us... again, I would have to assume in what he percieved to be a menacing fashion... at about a 10 yard distance. And he is a pretty lucky child. Lucky in that I did not let go of Nong's hand as she struggled to return to her previously planned smacking around of the foul mouthed, clueless child. Yes, he should thank me for that one simple kindness.
Anyway, that was it. Not a real great story, I suppose. But a pretty good moral, I think. See, I could have just let him slip in as if it was no big deal. I could have not shut the door. I could have just ignored his foul mouth. I could have decided to not get involved at all. But I kinda feel like we will end up with the society that we end up with if we don't make any effort to improve it. I personally intend for my society to be a little more civil than that.
Counting flowers on the wall (That don't bother me at all), out
Ramblin' Ed
That's what I'm about. Ramblin' Ed at 5:13 AM
7 comments:
I laughed, I cried. Best story of the day. Thanks for that- she wish I coulda seen that one. I woulda been betting on Nong big time.
Ah yes, Thai women, beautiful and delicate as an orchid... until this get PO'd and you've got the proverbial tiger by the tail.
I got my first Coke bottle over the head by a sweet, demur young Thai lady as I was trying to keep her from fileting my buddy. Yessiree... I still remember that one.
Funny thing was, the wind went out of everyone's sail after the Coke flew all over and she and my buddy did the kiss and makeup thing. Go figure.
I just thought of something else after that one.
If that young whigger stays the course, he might just find himself a guest of the county and you the innkeeper and very much in control of his world. :-)
Zero to pissed off in nothing flat. Yep, Gunner, you got that right.
5 minutes later, it's like it never even happened.
I believe the incredible highs, puncuated by bursts of firey anger, is what we know as passion.
Either way, you take your licks, no?
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