A very good friend of mine came into the Royale on Friday. It was a busy night. I gave him a nod and he gave me a quick hand motion to talk to him. He informed me that there were some kids throwing rocks at cars in the neighborhood. He said they were right around the corner on the infamous Gurney Avenue.
It was a bit busy, but this was something I had to address. We immediately rolled out toward the garage to get there though the alley.
Just prior to my friend's entrance through the back door of the Royale, I was shooting my crew with a squirt gun. I was weilding a small squirt gun at the staff. Joe especially did not like this. I had squirted just about every coworker with the gun. I was in a particularly postal mood that evening.
As my friend and I entered the garage I raised my armed hand in the air and told my friend, "This sounds like serious stuff, that is why I am rollin' strapped tonight."
We laugh as we enter the alley. I put the gun in my pocket. It was a pocket squirt gun. Very handy when taking care of business.
We round the corner of Gurney and we see two kids chasing each other around a car. At first I thought they were adults. They were big. Then I looked at their faces. They looked like babies. Then I thought they were really young. Then I looked at their behavior
. They were that
They were in early high school age. They were chasing each other around some sort of late model jeep like vehicle. I haven't been staying on top of the new car models like I used to.
The boys were trying to throw a newspaper at each other. I almost started laughing at these two giant baby looking kids throw a newspaper at each other around a car. These were some big kids, I bet each were every bit of 165 and pushing an easy 180. I think of people in terms of weight far too much. Old habit from wrestling.
"That is them" he quietly says to me.
My friend begins to trail me as I walk up to the jeep contraption.
They boys begin to calm as I walk up, but they don't stop. One of the giant babies is still holding the paper in his hand still cocked and ready to throw but are waiting to see what I am doing.
"Gentlemen, I am a bit confused."
They look at each other then look at me. Then they look at my friend.
"I am trying to figure out what is going on. I heard from one of my customers that somebody was throwing rocks. You don't know anything about this do you?"
They stare at me blankly. The kids still have relatively excited looks on their faces for just moments before they were having fun throwing newspapers at each other. But they were starting to look confused.
"You know how it can be. I hear about something going on and I have to come check it out. You know how people can be. I heard the rocks were hitting cars.
Can you believe that? You know how people can get about their cars. They can go crazy on someone. Especially nice cars. I am sure you guys know about owning nice cars."
They both nod. The slimmer of the duo begins to warm up and responds softly "Yeah, we know. Our parents have nice cars."
I couldn't tell if he was joking or serious, but it was funny either way. They both began to smile then look at me.
"Yeah you should know, and people with nice cars can go crazy on people when someone messes with their cars. You know someone with a car who might go crazy don't you? If you know who was throwing rocks out here, you might want to let them know that. It is not that cool."
"There were some other kids throwing rocks."
I smile. That is a great line. I used it once or twice myself when I was a giant baby.
"Huh. Well can you convey that message along to those kids."
They stare at me blankly. The giant babies are so good at that. That blank look. It is much better than a hostile look.
"Who are you?"
"I own the business around the corner."
"That tavern? I know where that is."
"That restaurant. It is a nice place. Be sure to stop by. And be sure to tell those kids to stop throwing rocks."
As I walk away my friend and I laughed. The kids walked away no longer throwing newspapers, rocks or anything. And I was a little too proud of my petty street justice.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the water gun. I go to squirt my friend and notice there is no ammo. It is out of water. I then look down at my pants. The gun leaked out all over my crotch. It looked as if I had peed myself. I felt a bit of embarrassment for just a second and laughed. Then I felt a wave of serious social fear. I realized it must have looked as if I had peed myself as I was scolding these giant babies. Now that is really embarrassing/funny. I am now legendary among the neighborhood kids for reasons I would not like to be legendary. The pants wetting crazy scolding business owner.Next postings about not breaking rules despite being given the full encouragement of the authorities at my favorite brewpub, electric shock collars and why I know that it is destined that I run a joint on Cherokee.