You can run, but you cannot hide.
They're everywhere, in the mall, at the pool, on aeroplanes, all around you in cinemas, jostling for that last pathetic seat at Macdonalds, screaming, screeching, running amok all over the place.
God help us! The school holidays are upon us and the children are fur-a-reeee, free from the bondage of Teachers and Textbooks. To wreck havoc on Adult-kind as it were, at least for the next month or so.
I want to move to Timbuktoo.
The other day on the plane, this Sikh kid of about 6 was seated directly behind me, fidgeting like a monkey on Ecstacy. He kept kicking my seat despite me turning around to glare at him. And when he did it for the 7th time, I had to bite my tongue and restrain myself from strangling the boy with his own little turban. I stood up, put on my most frightening scrowl, hovered above him like some deranged gorilla and told his father, who was seated next to him, that he had better tie his son's legs to the chair. Yes, I know that Sikhs are big people, but I am not small myself =))
Then yesterday at the pool, a few young Ching-Chong Charlies hollering in Mandarin were practising diving. Every plunge was accompanied by a blood-curling screech that would make a female hyena giving birth to quadruplets blush. And the idiots were splashing water all over the place, in total disregard for some people, like
moi, who were trying to have a peaceful and DRY afternoon reading. They wet my book. Bastards! One day I will switch the signs showing the deep end from the shallow end and then sit back to relax while the security guards scrape one of them Greg Louganis-wannabees off the bottom of the pool =))
And just now, while walking to my office, this fat Malay kid came hurtling towards me like some obese juggernaut. Head-butted me in the bloody crotch that blind lard-ball. Why? Because he was running towards his equally rotund father who was calling out to him to hurry up. And daddy had the cheek to giggle when he saw junior stumble at my feet. If I had kicked the fleshy football, he would have rolled fairly quickly towards his dad I reckon. Pity I was wearing slippers.
Don't get me wrong. I don't detest kids. Just the badly brought up ones. But who am I to say? I don't have any children to bring up myself. Maybe if I did, they would be just as spoilt and naughty. Although K and me tell ourselves, everytime we come across a badly-behaved ruggamuffin, that as parents, we would have slapped the kid so hard, the Milky Way could be seen without the Hubble Telescope.
Well I can take a few kids at a time, but when they come out in such droves, it just drives me crazy.
I say again, I want to move to Timbuktoo!