Luckily, my very good friend Kirsty was on hand to help and escort me out of the building before I started flailing my arms around like I was attempting flight and ended up accidentally giving someone a broken nose or a black eye. I managed to cry all the way to her house, egged on by people walking past and staring at me. Kirsty got me sat down with a drink of squash at hers and made me feel much better, although slightly like a five year old after a temper tantrum. This wasn’t her fault mind you, this is because I felt a bit like I was throwing all of my toys out of the pram in a fit of rage. Having really bad hair due to a party last night where I dressed as a lion didn’t help much.
After calming down for a few hours she received a text about some pizza at my house and so I decided that when it comes to food, perhaps mine is the best place to be after all.
On my long and dangerous journey home (it’s a whole TEN MINUTES walk away. It was like an expedition to the north pole.) I came across an old and wise looking Asian lady, wearing a beautiful sari (I think that’s how it is spelt) and going for a little walk at a slow pace down the road. I’m sure you know the type. She looked regal in both her manner and her dress, strolling like she had all the time in the world. I walked behind her for a while, wishing I’d look that good in a sari, especially at that age (she must have been late 80s, early 90s, at a bad guess. I’m not good with ages). I would look a bit like a blimp in a condom though. And it’s not even like they’re tight fitting.
Anyway, about 100 meters down the road a young cat steps out from behind a wall and approaches the beautiful old lady, obviously wanting attention, and I thought, “How sweet, I wish I had a camera to capture this moment.”
The old lady looks down, spots the friendly feline and immediately starts stamping her feet, scaring the cat away. Fair enough, you think, a bit harsh but maybe she is allergic or doesn’t like cats. So did I. But then she starts to follow the poor feline to where it’s run to. Stamping and clapping her hands while it cowers cornered behind a bin. She even started hitting the bin and the wall around it.
This is when she looks around and spots me, staring gormlessly at the sight of a woman as well turned out and kind looking as she is showing no mercy to an innocent animal who simply went to greet her and be friendly. I knelt down and called the cat, which came running to me; realising that I was its best chance of safety; and started winding its way around my legs purring and meowing while I talked softly and calmly to it. The evil old lady stares at me in horror, having not realised she was being watched during her prior moments of cruelty. The cat then takes off for a location further away from Mrs Crazy-But-Well-Dressed, while I, Miss Bad-Party-Hair; with my head held high and my back straight; walk past her, glaring.
This whole incident has shattered all my illusions and childish ideals. Old people are supposed to be nice. End of. Young people on the other hand “don’t know they’re born”, are intolerant, cruel and litter. Only the worst type of people litter.
I KNOW this is a giant stereotyping of age and I KNOW it doesn’t apply to every person on the planet. Gaddaffi, for example, is probably not a very nice person. Hitler, although not VERY old, was still nearing the age where we are all suddenly transmuted into nice people. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think there were any signs of this sudden change occurring.
On top of this evidence that my old/young theory doesn’t work is the fact that I am young. I don’t think that I’m a horrible person. Having said that, I don’t think Hitler thought he was a horrible person, so maybe I am horrible and just don’t know it. I prefer things this way so if I am horrible please don’t be honest. Thanks.
In addition to this I don’t think my friends are horrible. And I certainly hope they don’t litter. Only scum litters. I don’t hang out with scum. Littering is worse than murder. Or espionage. Ok, I just wanted to get the word “espionage” in here somewhere. As Allie Brosh would say, “I Win!”
I honestly understand that some people don’t like cats. I don’t like dogs. I still took in that lost dog that turned up on our doorstep that time. I didn’t chase it away, clapping my hands and stamping my feet to scare it. I even let it in the bathroom with me when it kept whining outside the door although it’s kind of unnerving trying to pee whilst being stared at by a canine like you’re some kind of god. AND I gave it a name (it was named Dog. Original, dontchathink?).
I was even quite sad when the RSPCA turned up to take it away. Poor thing. He didn’t like that much. Especially when I explained to him that he had to leave because I didn’t like him much.
In reality, it doesn’t matter whether or not you like a certain animal. A decent person would have walked on and let it be. That applies to people too. If you see someone you don’t like in the street, that’s ok, just keep walking. And it was due to this very reasoning that there were no little old ladies injured on Beaconsfield Road today. Also, if she had been injured everyone would have looked from me to her and thought, “Young people today! What a poor, defenceless old lady, bless her heart!” Maybe that’s why she did it. She wanted to defame me and have me known as an old lady beater by all. She’s so evil that she’d planned it all in advance.
So can anyone guess what today’s lesson is? Wrong, it’s not “you can’t judge a book by its cover” it’s “never trust old people”.
This whole incident has shattered all my illusions and childish ideals. Old people are supposed to be nice. End of. Young people on the other hand “don’t know they’re born”, are intolerant, cruel and litter. Only the worst type of people litter.
I KNOW this is a giant stereotyping of age and I KNOW it doesn’t apply to every person on the planet. Gaddaffi, for example, is probably not a very nice person. Hitler, although not VERY old, was still nearing the age where we are all suddenly transmuted into nice people. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think there were any signs of this sudden change occurring.
On top of this evidence that my old/young theory doesn’t work is the fact that I am young. I don’t think that I’m a horrible person. Having said that, I don’t think Hitler thought he was a horrible person, so maybe I am horrible and just don’t know it. I prefer things this way so if I am horrible please don’t be honest. Thanks.
In addition to this I don’t think my friends are horrible. And I certainly hope they don’t litter. Only scum litters. I don’t hang out with scum. Littering is worse than murder. Or espionage. Ok, I just wanted to get the word “espionage” in here somewhere. As Allie Brosh would say, “I Win!”
I honestly understand that some people don’t like cats. I don’t like dogs. I still took in that lost dog that turned up on our doorstep that time. I didn’t chase it away, clapping my hands and stamping my feet to scare it. I even let it in the bathroom with me when it kept whining outside the door although it’s kind of unnerving trying to pee whilst being stared at by a canine like you’re some kind of god. AND I gave it a name (it was named Dog. Original, dontchathink?).
I was even quite sad when the RSPCA turned up to take it away. Poor thing. He didn’t like that much. Especially when I explained to him that he had to leave because I didn’t like him much.
In reality, it doesn’t matter whether or not you like a certain animal. A decent person would have walked on and let it be. That applies to people too. If you see someone you don’t like in the street, that’s ok, just keep walking. And it was due to this very reasoning that there were no little old ladies injured on Beaconsfield Road today. Also, if she had been injured everyone would have looked from me to her and thought, “Young people today! What a poor, defenceless old lady, bless her heart!” Maybe that’s why she did it. She wanted to defame me and have me known as an old lady beater by all. She’s so evil that she’d planned it all in advance.
So can anyone guess what today’s lesson is? Wrong, it’s not “you can’t judge a book by its cover” it’s “never trust old people”.
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