Slow Children

Wherein I continue my practice of haranguing unsuspecting children and exact revenge in a thinly veiled fashion at recent F.M.S. attackers.

Frankly, this is really sad. I saw this sign a couple of miles from my house at an apartment complex. I love to ridicule children as much as the next normal, well-adjusted adult. However, permanently affixing a sign to a post to mock their lack of speed? Even I think that’s a little far out there. Throw partially eaten Taco Bell at them? Sure. Feed their pets b.b.’s wrapped in a dog treat? Absolutely. But signs?

I’ve been by a few times to take a look at these unusually slow children. It’s the typical assortment of nerds, bullies, crybabies and nose pickers crawling about the complex grounds. Nothing particularly half fast about them. If anything, from my perspective, the sign should read “Ugly Children” or “Unable to Make A Free Throw Children”. There’s one particularly pasty faced little half child, half snake like creature I’ve taken to calling Quasisnake.

What does it say about my community that we forcibly quarantine families of small children into one apartment complex due to sluggish speed? Next thing you know, all of the rich folks will be gathered together in gated neighborhoods under lock and key.

I’ll tell you what it says: My town kicks ass!

We don’t tolerate slow children here. Can’t run fast? Here’s directions to your new home where you and all the other slow kids can spend 7 hours on Saturday working your way through a kick ball game.

I’m outraged. Outraged that I didn’t think of this idea myself.

I’ve run through there many times since noticing this sign as, obviously, it’s my new favorite place to deposit snot rockets. Like shooting fish in a barrel, I say. Recently, I took pity and pulled to a stop next to rocket victims Quasisnake and his slack jawed friend, Non Chocolate.*

“So, you kids are incredibly, embarrassingly slow, eh?” I hissed, all proud of myself for executing the non-clunky mid-sentence double adverb.

“Uh, no. What are you talking about, mister?” Said Quasisnake, who I’m sure was thinking but didn’t say, ‘Are you a model or a movie star or a professional body builder or George Clooney? Or all of the above?’

“Duh?” said Non Chocolate looking befuddled.

“No, no. I’m not George Clooney. Common mistake.” I responded to the unasked question. “The sign over there indicates that you children are really, amazingly slow runners.”

I pulled a double, double adverb and stuck the landing!

“Err, duh?” said Non Chocolate again, having a hard time keeping up.

“That’s a sign telling people to slow down because kids are playing, mister. Not that we are slow kids.” Responded Quasisnake, who still clearly didn’t believe he wasn’t talking to George Clooney.

“I’m not slowing down for anyone.” I say. “Why don’t you kids read up on Paavo Nurmi or Ville Ritola and make like a Flying Finn so you’re not stuck in Snail’s Pace Apartments.”

“That’s not the name of the apartments. And who is Paul Neuman and Billy Ricola?” asks Quasisnake.

“Der??” inputs Non Chocolate still lost in a haze of befuddlement.

Then it dawns on me. The sign isn’t describing their speed. In fact, the two hooligans have the general air of recent PR setters. No, no, it's something different than that. They’re not slow runners.

I get it.

They’re dumb.

Happy trails.

* Any similarity between these fictional characters and actual people is entirely purposeful.
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Now that that is out of the way. Moving on to a completely unrelated item...Congratulations to Vanilla and Viper, the "V" Boys, for kicking ass and setting new PR's. Stop by and offer them a compliment or a back-handed compliment. They appreciate either one.

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Sadist Nancy has her 8 on the 8th race results up. Everyone give a big cheer for Nancy for organizing. Hip, Hip, Hoo...oh, ouch, I pulled my lower masseter muscle. Off to ice it down. Someone finish the cheer for me.