2012 / 18 November

KIDS!!! | Dont You Just H@#E Them


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I have stopped going to Silverbird Cinemas and the E-Center. Why? Because I have no intention of being paraded on ‘Crime-fighters’ and spending the rest of my life in Kiri-Kiri maximum prison for voluntary manslaughter or something worse! There is something fundamentally wrong with the psyche of the children of this generation. While I have not really sat down to analyse the situation, I am hoping this particular rant of mine will evoke some responses from you guys and maybe solve this dilemma that is presently bothering me.

Have you noticed the horde of ‘juveniles’ who throng the fun spots day in, day out-punching the holy crap out of their blackberry,(ask me what a 14 year old is doing with one, abeg?) chattering away in affected accents, gesticulating like gay lords (which I suspect most of them will grow up to be) and drama queens (which some of them already are) and generally making a right nuisance of themselves.

I remember being in Silverbird one afternoon for something I can’t remember right now… I was walking on the corridor on the first floor when these two little punks stepped out of a shop and began walking towards me. Now, my dear parents taught me to always give my elders the right of way whenever the need arose but I don’t think the parents of these little pricks ever read that script. They kept on walking and one of them had the balls (probably hairless, if you’ll forgive the pun) to bump shoulders with me.

I looked back at him in indignation and was thoroughly irritated to see the punks mean-mugging me back. They whispered something to each other and sniggered away, which strengthened my resolve to revenge their lack of discretion. I stalked them, circling round the floor until I came face to face with them again. The little punk who bumped into me was speaking into his cell phone when he looked up and saw me. He probably saw the sadistic glint in my eye and made to hang up the phone but it was too late… I closed the gap between us and ground the heel of my shoe into his big toe, twisting it as I lovingly sought to cause him as much grief as I could in as short a time as possible.

The little punk opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. He dropped his phone (pretty expensive looking, I might add) on the floor and clutched his foot in mortal agony. His ‘friend’ weighed the situation and came to the sharp conclusion that I had over 40kg over him and nearly two feet in height and his chances of coming out in a state close to being alive if I had cause to engage in physical combat with him were as slim as Yakubu Aiyegbeni ever winning the World Footballer of the Year award and so he dropped beside his friend and offered what little succour he could while I whistled a jaunty tune and walked away, pleased as a State Governor when the Federal Government releases the monthly revenue allocation.

For some reason, I suspect the quality of audio-visual content these children are made to watch is partly the reason for their literal retardation. The quality of children’s programmes has dropped significantly ever since ‘Voltron’ was yanked off the air. Nowadays, kids have to make do with brain-damaging cartoons like ‘Ben 10’ and ‘Tele-tubbies’. I shudder to think of what I might have been if I was forced to grow up on these!

Here’s another instance.

I was at a family function when one little punk (what is the female word?) of a cousin walked up to me. The last time I checked, I was older than the Paris Hilton wanna-be by at least 12 years, but it didn’t stop her from trying enthusiastically to spoil my day. Decked in a traditional outfit that her father must have physically forced her into wearing, lest she turned up for the party looking like a 2nd year prostitute, she was a study in teenage insanity as she flopped into an empty seat beside me without asking for permission first, chewing gum loudly and clutching a high-end Blackberry. I scowled deeply in the vain hope that she would get the message and go bother some other unlucky relative but she obviously didn’t get the message.

‘‘Oh dahleeeeeng!’’ She crowed, sounding like a cross between a dying vulture and a Nigerian On-Air personality, ‘eets been aygeeees seence eye saw yoouuuu!’ (I translated that last sentence just the way she said it. But seeing how much torture she inflicted on me with that sentence, I will refrain from subjecting you to the same treatment.) I instantly went into ‘brain-dead’ mode and was blissfully unaware of whatever she might have said in the three minutes or so that she elected to torment my existence. I vaguely remember grunting absently after every third sentence she uttered until she got bored with me and picked some unlucky victim to excruciate.

Another IQ booster for me is the concept of caning… I think caning does a lot to improve a child’s reasoning power! I’ll give you the gist in the sequel… Stay tuuned!! ( •̃͡-̮•̃͡)

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