It takes a lot to surprise me these days, but today I was surprised. Shocked, even.
I’m sitting on the Great Silver Bus once again, on my way to - yes, you guessed it - Sweat City. El Ciudad de Sueño. My home away from home, headquarters of the Great Corporate Salt Mine.
I’ve just boarded the plane and I’m getting settled in my seat. The aisles are packed with other Intrepid Travelers working their way toward the back.
A little guy, perhaps seven years old, is in the aisle now, alongside my row. Suddenly, he barks, clear as day, “Move it, ass-shit!”
My head snaps around in a classic movie double-take. WTF?!!?
Where are this kid’s parents? Why don’t they smack the little turd into next week, right on the spot?
Hey, I use invective liberally - more so in real life than in my bloggity existence. But lobbing fuckbombs at random? (All right, this was a shitbomb. Still!) In public? How... nekulturny. And besides, whoever heard of “ass-shit”? Where I come from, the proper term is “shit-ass.”
What kind of a smacked ass lets a kid talk like that? Who are these people?
I was shocked. Shocked, I tell ya!