About 4 months ago, I told Amanda of Amanda Meets Book that I will one day write about my kickfights with fat little Persian boys. I suppose it could have been a short story, but when I sat down to get it written, it ended up being a VERY short rant piece. Nevertheless, I think it’s entertaining enough for me to be able to offer it to the Internet without any semblance of shame.
So without further delay…
A Jerk is a Jerk, No Matter How Small
Let me preface this entire thing by saying that I am, in fact, no more racist than any other person (unless you’re a white supremacist or a less white equivalent, in which case – moving along). But I simply have to say that the Persians who were living in our condominium building deserve to be struck down with their own god. Hopefully, with a plague of rats in their toilets. Siccing MY deity on them won’t be as satisfying.
I’d also like to make it clear that I rather like children, even if my limbs are far too weak to carry them, even when they’re babies. But I recognize the fact that many kids can be unforgivably obnoxious. And if they happen to be very spoiled or, in the case of this rather fat little Persian boy whose identity I will hide under the name of Abba (it’s the first Persian name the Internet spat out, ok?), come from a culture in which boys are treated like kings just by virtue of their penises, I tend to be very VERY intolerant. I don’t care that their parents are raising them as they see fit; the moment some little overweight excuse for a little human lays claims ALL THE TOYS the other kids have just because his Mama and nanny can’t say no, the community has to step in.
Which is why, on a relatively quiet afternoon a little over a year ago, I kicked an entitled fat little Persian kid in the ankles.
In my defense: he started it, I was wearing soft shoes, and I kick like a newborn kitten. But it felt good and he learned a very important lesson – if you try to kick me while I’m trying to read I swear I will find a way to get back at you that you can’t whine to your mother or father about. Just because I’m smaller than the other adults doesn’t mean that you can DEMAND that I get off that particular spot on the lobby couch so YOU can sit on it. You ask. You don’t kick at my knees and try to grab my book. YOU ARE SIX YEARS OLD OR SOMETHING and you should know how to talk by now.
Also, I am not a Persian woman or somebody you parents pay to be nice to you. So if I ruined your shoes? TOUGH. You were being a jerk, little boy, and the fact that the guards CLAPPED when I kicked you before leading me away. Your youth should not excuse you, nor should your culture WHEN YOU ARE LIVING IN MINE. If you want to live in my country, get used to females who tell you you are wrong. Because you are. I got to that spot first, and until I leave it’s mine. That little girl OWNED that toy truck, and it will NEVER be yours.
Of course, you’ve been told that before. You just didn’t listen until someone scuffed your shoes. Holy crap, if we only knew that that’s what it took to get you to stop, we would have spilled shit on your shoe much earlier.
That being said, he still didn’t learn. So we got into another quiet little kickfight a couple of weeks later (something about honor? not sure). After that, he and his family moved out – apparently, something about not following condo policies. I think the kid tried to pull the same kicking shit with the landlords. We’ll never know.
All I know is the place in general is now better, and fat little Chinese boys are incredibly polite.