The Other Side of Us Coins
I found myself having dinner at this little nice restaurant across the corner of my house tonight, and a very kind and sweet boy came all the way from inside the place and sat at my table outside at the sidewalk. The kid was friendly enough that I actually bothered to talk back to him as he explained the mechanics of whatever shooting game he was playing in his smartphone. I don't usually engage in conversations I'm not interested in having, and tonight in particular I wasn't in my best mood. Far from it.
As this kid kept on and on about his weapons and armors, his mother, the owner of the small business, came by our table and handed him a plate with meat on it. Nothing but meat. The little guy set the phone aside and dived in, like a true caveman. Kids... What's there not to like?
Suddenly enough this whole piece of worthless story gets interesting. The boy starts talking about how his mother, the cook, must have done something different with the meat, because tonight it was so soft... Hey, the kid's got a thing for marketing, right? He carries on...
"She must've listened to that tall man who lives in that house over there." He said as he pointed to a home all too familiar to me, for I knew its resident well enough. I never said it, though, since I was interested in his opinion concerning our mutual friend.
"What do you mean? What did he say?" I asked.
"He tought mom how to cut meat the right way. He showed her that she should pay attention to the flow of the fiber. He's very smart. He brought his awesome knife over to show us, and he said he would bring one just like it for me."
He was amazed. Baffled. Captured by the man's charm. I kept my mouth shut. Kids are a miracle up until a certain point in their awesome lives. So why screw up, right? Why tell him that the guy's a prick? A sexist troll addicted to texting young women to a point at which it becomes abusive and threatening? And then, as they turn him down furiously, he yells profanities and calls them all dumb bitches who are unable to properly pick a man. A real man. Because if you haven't heard, a troll's dream is to be a real man. All but a dream untangible. No... Let the boy believe what he sees. I know a whole bunch of people who can't live otherwise. Never flipping a coin more than a couple of times, afraid to see what's on the other side.
"Sure, kid. He's a blast."
As this kid kept on and on about his weapons and armors, his mother, the owner of the small business, came by our table and handed him a plate with meat on it. Nothing but meat. The little guy set the phone aside and dived in, like a true caveman. Kids... What's there not to like?
Suddenly enough this whole piece of worthless story gets interesting. The boy starts talking about how his mother, the cook, must have done something different with the meat, because tonight it was so soft... Hey, the kid's got a thing for marketing, right? He carries on...
"She must've listened to that tall man who lives in that house over there." He said as he pointed to a home all too familiar to me, for I knew its resident well enough. I never said it, though, since I was interested in his opinion concerning our mutual friend.
"What do you mean? What did he say?" I asked.
"He tought mom how to cut meat the right way. He showed her that she should pay attention to the flow of the fiber. He's very smart. He brought his awesome knife over to show us, and he said he would bring one just like it for me."
He was amazed. Baffled. Captured by the man's charm. I kept my mouth shut. Kids are a miracle up until a certain point in their awesome lives. So why screw up, right? Why tell him that the guy's a prick? A sexist troll addicted to texting young women to a point at which it becomes abusive and threatening? And then, as they turn him down furiously, he yells profanities and calls them all dumb bitches who are unable to properly pick a man. A real man. Because if you haven't heard, a troll's dream is to be a real man. All but a dream untangible. No... Let the boy believe what he sees. I know a whole bunch of people who can't live otherwise. Never flipping a coin more than a couple of times, afraid to see what's on the other side.
"Sure, kid. He's a blast."
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