The Scolai

“Just a Good Guy…With a Few Bad Habits”

Some Peoples Kids

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Today, I took Smoochy and Muggsy and four of their friends to a nearby “upscale” mall. I am not what you would call a mall person and malls during the holidays come close to giving me a rash.

After dropping them off, my wife and I went to a nearby TGI Fridays for lunch. She headed out to take care of some business and I headed back to look for the kids. This mall has most of the high end stores you would expect in an area known for it’s yuppie population.

Understand, I have nothing against yuppies per se, but I do have a problem with people who like to put on a “wealth” front. Trust me, the truly wealthy people I know have no need to flaunt it, the jack asses who make their entire existence an exercise in getting to that level are the people I want to put in a “rear naked choke” as my friend Hooligan would say.

Worse than the above mentioned pretentious jack asses are their spawn.

At least the pretentious, wanna be wealthy, yuppie jack asses I observe have accomplished something. Their kids, on the other hand, have done nothing but put their sticky little hands out and shoved an allowance into the pockets of their trendy jeans.

One good thing about this “upscale” mall is the Brookstone store. Great massage chairs. After a 40 minute nap, I headed out to look for my girls. Muggsy had mentioned that they would be spending some time at Hollister. Hollister, of all stores, gets me particularly pissed off. $3 t-shirts that teenagers will buy for $20 and $10 jeans that go for $70. For a guy who buys 3 pack Hanes t-shirts and Wrangler jeans from K-mart, this store is anathema.

Upon entering Hollister, your auditory senses are assaulted by LOUD, but weak, pop music. Remember, I am a guy who drives fire engines and rides motorcycles with open pipes and I think this music is loud. The aisles are narrow and crowded with people who want to join the ranks of we the sheeple. I made one circuit without finding the girls and on my way out I met “Brody the Yuppie Spawn.”

I don’t know if this jerk offs name was Brody, but he looked like a Brody. You know, the type of kid who pledges a fraternity in hopes that gang banging a goat will be part of the initiation.

I was walking past the checkout counter when Brody came running by and pushed a clothes rack into me. Luckily I was on one side of the rack and Brody was on the other. I grabbed the top rail of the clothes rack and shoved back hard. Brody stumbled back fast enough to knock the Hollister clad checkout girl off her register and onto the floor.

Being a gentleman, I reached down and helped the young lady to her feet. Being an offended adult male, I felt the need to school Brody. Grabbing him by the scruff of his perfectly pressed Hollister Oxford, I jerked him up to eye level and said “Next time, slow down and say ‘excuse me sir’ you contemptible waste of ejaculate.”

The look on his face was a mixture of fear and confusion. Obviously his father is either absent or emasculated. As soon as I let go of him he ran for the exit. Not content to take his medicine without risking further embarrassment, he stopped at the door and yelled “F**K you man!!!”

I would have chased the little bastard down and pummeled him had I not noticed the growing stain on the front of his pants.

George Carlin is right, these soft, fruity baby boomers really are raising a generation of soft, fruity kids.



Written by thescolai

December 30, 2007 at 10:13 pm

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