FatKidsLie

Once in the late 1980’s in Queens, NY where there were fully nude strip clubs on the main streets in a major city and drug dealers and pimps roamed the streets in fur coats and purple fedoras with giant peacock feathers attached to them like something out of a blacksploitation movie, my grandmother got mugged. It wasn’t really much of a mugging. The guy didn’t pull a knife or a gun or a stick with a nail in it or anything like that. It was really a snatch-and-grab type deal.

Some delinquent decided that an old lady, who was about 4ft nuthin’, wearing a mink coat would give up her sequined purse that was chock full of hard candy, a change of jewelry and a gangster roll of cash without a fight. But he didn’t realize that old people are usually not afraid to fight because they have no friends since they’ve outlived them all and are not afraid to die because they are old and get visits from the Grim Reaper every time they sit down on the toilet and will not take the kind of crap that stealing their purse in a snatch-and-grab type robbery entails from some young whippersnapper like you ya filthy punk hoodlum.

So when the guy tried to grab the bag and run away Grandma just stood there. Planted like the brick shithouse she was. The would-be robber just stopped, turned around, grabbed the purse with both hands, tried to pull it away and said what only some fucktarded criminal could possibly think of saying to a grandma that you’ve failed to mug: “Leggo th’ bag ya old bitch!”.

Grandma then reached back (like a pimp) and knocked that idiot out.

And knocked a tooth out of his head.

A construction worker was already rushing to her aid, took her by the hand and sat her down on a nearby bench. The robber started to get up and some kids said “no… you got knocked out by a grandma. You stay down now. You wait for the police to arrest you and take you away in a shameful way that you deserve.”

When the cops came they took one look at the robber, and then at my grandmother and wanted to arrest her for knocking him out so hard. So hard that he peed his pants.

When I was a kid my mom and my friend’s mom made us play outside. All the time.

This isn’t so odd because in the 1980’s we only had like 4 TV stations and no real internet. But we had Huffy bikes. And parks.

So my friend Andy and I would get our bikes and ride up to this park and play there all the time. Even though there were crackheads, and trench coat flashers and bad-touch vans we went about a half mile away from our homes, with no parental supervision.

So anyway ahem we’d hang out at the park and talk about how icky girls like Clairebeast were. And one day, we found out that the lake in the park was our local emergency reservoir (because a kid got drowned in there because he was swimming and they turned on the pumps for a maintainance check or something and he got sucked in …).

So after being lectured by our own parents, and then every one of our friend’s parents and the representative from the Water Board and our school’s principal the main thing that Andy and I got out of that is that we could pee in the lake. And then everyone would drink our pees.

And that. Would. Be. AWESOME

At this park there’s a bridge with two pump-houses. Where hobos sometimes stashed jugs of booze and drugs and crackheads sometimes died or whatever it is that they do… So, we’d get on the bridge, climb onto the stone railing and then pee. Every day. For an entire summer.

The other day, my girlfriend and I went to the park and I told her about this. Then I did some mental calculations, and realized how dumb we were. Because the whole thing is cleaned before it gets to your taps. And also the amount of pee 2 8 year old boys can produce is nothing compared to the sheer volume of water in that lake.

Also, if we peed in there, and then we drank it, we’d be drinking our own pee too. That part simply failed to register in our little 2nd grader minds. Because boys are retarted.

All of us.

Forever.