By Grouchy Joe

What in the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks is going on with the kids in this city? I've lived here for 17 years and I haven't come across a smart kid yet. It's like someone replaced their brains with oatmeal, but didn't leave them a spoon!

There was this one time, back in the 1980's, I was walking down to the art gallery and I saw a large group of kids standing around the front steps. At first I thought that they were just loitering punks, but when I got closer I saw that they were watching another kid (who must have been wearing his dad’s pants) laying down and twitching on the sidewalk. He must have been having a seizure because he was flopping around like a fish out of water. That's not even the bad part! What suprised me was that none of these kids were even helping him. They just stood around watching him, listening to their music; it was like his medical condition was some kind of sick entertainment!

Well, I wasn’t going to let this go on any longer! I resisted the urge to club the boy on his head, which I knew would stop his seizuring. Instead, I quickly thought back to my WWII medic training. I picked up a stick from one of the planters and and put it in the boy’s mouth so he wouldn’t bite his tongue. I then held him down and rolled him on his side so that he would be able to breathe. I did my best to save the boy’s life, but everyone "booed" me and called me names like "pops," "grandpa," and "old timer!" The young boy on the ground spat out the stick, lept up, and ran away from me like I was some kind of Commie or something! I was no Commie! I was trying to save his life!

As it turns out, the idjit was doing something that was called "break dancing." It didn’t make no sense to me, but these idjits seemed mighty upset that I had ruined his fish imitation. To tell the truth, I'd seen better floundering at the pool.

I looked at the crowd and realized that they were all boys. How did these idjits plan their break dance without inviting any girls? If they had any brains in their heads, they’d get up off the sidewalk, dust themselves off, and head on down to a good old-fashioned square dance! There'd be a female dance partner for each one of these kids and I'm sure they’d stay a whole lot cleaner.

I used to square dance every Saturday night when I was their age and I was pretty good at it too. I don’t mind telling you that I was known to get the odd peck on the cheek at the end of the night. I even worked my way up to being the caller before I shipped out for Fort Thompson. Now that is what I called fun!

Now it's a good thing that none of those "break dancing" idjits who called me names ever crossed my path again. I would've taken my cane and shown them all a little something that I like to call "break-nosing!"

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