“I love profanity, but I think if it’s used too much, it just sounds a little trashy. I think it’s more effective when it’s dropped intelligently. I like intelligent profanity.”~ Katie Aselton
Never in my life did I think I would come across this situation. But I did. And it was less than an hour from when this blog post was started to be composed.
I live in a gated community. Which means anyone going door to door is a solicitor, and that’s just a big no-no.
This would also mean that neighborhood children who are out on Halloween night are not permitted to come on to the property to start knocking on doors.
Halloween is for all intents and purposes, closed down and forbidden on this property.
However, it is NOT against the rules here that residents and neighbors who have grandchildren and the like, that families can’t come visit their grandparents to show off their Halloween costumes. What IS against the rules is going door to door, begging for candy.
So then about an hour ago, as I sat here in the dark, trying to get myself into the spirit by watching old horror films on television and newer horror films on the Internet, was a knock on the door.
Not really believing that anyone would dare attempt to solicit sweets out of me, I opened the door to find myself in a big ole steamy pile of WRONGNESS.
There stood a tiny Red Power Ranger, begging for candy.
Of which I have absolutely NONE.
And so in a scramble to find something decent to give, because I had no candy. I grabbed a fistful of quarters and threw them into this beggar’s bag.
The clinking of quarters caught this little one’s attention and he reached into the bag to see what I put in. And found a bunch of change.
At this point was when HELL broke loose. 
This bratty punk then said the following (and I quote verbatum) “Not money, its supposed to be candy, motherfucker!”
INCREDIBLE!! Who or where gave him this kind of knowledge of language??
I became unglued.
I went outside, feeling quite confident that I could have overpowered him and slam dunked him into a tree or a dumpster or something. But then an adult came along.
I asked if the child belonged to them and they said that the child was in fact theirs.
I told them about the conversation that JUST happened moments ago. Only to find the parent or guardian or whomever it was, lay into the child like a wicked stepmother.
Where are the children finding the ways to grow a pair to be like that and talk like that? Adults are bad enough as it is, and I’m tired of dealing with nasty and mean adults.
But now, children????
Dambreaker 