Okay, so I’m about to admit something kinda f*cked up. I personally don’t think it’s super terrible or anything, but to some people it totally might be, but it’s whatever, I’m still telling it to ya anyways.
So, we had these people living next door to us who were really busy raising the spawn of Satan. He was like two years old, but by the way he’d cuss you out, you’d totally think he was at least eight. You’d hear him all day running around, screaming at the top of his lungs, and telling every living thing on the block to f*ck off. Well, whenever this little boy would cry, it’d bring the biggest smile to my face imaginable. Horribly mean of me, I know, but I couldn’t even control it. The minute I’d hear his sobbing wails, my whole day brightened up.
This was due to him seriously being a monster. I’ve never met a toddler so unruly, disrespectful, and outrageously bad-tempered. There was one time I was playing with his older brothers, and he attacked me by clawing at my eyes, nearly blinding me, and latched himself onto my eyelids as I tried to yank him off my face. It was gnarly.
Oh, and that’s not all. His favorite pastime was to sneak into our yard, and sh*t out little rabbit pellets for us as a present. There wouldn’t be a day where you couldn’t find at least one of his turd mounds somewhere around. Plus, he’d found a way inside of our garage. So, after pooping all over our front porch, he’d break in, open the freezer, and steal popsicles. MY popsicles. You’d think it couldn’t get any worse than human feces and stolen popsicles, but I implore you to finish reading.
Lastly, I had a dog. Her name was Amber. White fur with brown spots, super loyal, incredibly smart, like the best dog ever. I loved her so much that I even gave her a friendship ring. This ring was a plastic band I found that eventually cut off circulation to her toe, almost leading to an amputation, but she knew I loved the crap out of her. She was always there to cuddle with, play, and lick your tears when you were upset. Well, that little boy killed her.
Not like literally, or anything. But, his actions definitely resulted in my Amber’s death. One day, when none of us were at home, the little boy walked over to our side yard. He opened the gate, and let her out, where she was then flattened by a semi-truck, and I’d never get to see her again.
So, yeah, that’s why I’d get such an intense satisfaction from the sound of his anguish. Not too f*cked up, am I right? I mean come on, because of him, I had no popsicles and a dead dog to bury. I actually honestly hope he grew up well though. Like, If he was that troubled at 2 years old, I can only imagine him now as a Marilyn Manson incarnate. Super scary thought.
