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So, recently, I had the chance to wander down a street with a brick in my hand.
The reason for that was because a friend of mine had gotten her car stuck in the sand and needed a couple people to help her push it out, and so a bunch of us volunteered. Two of us had the foresight to grab a brick each so that we could prop them under the tires so there'd be more traction. But really, that's neither here nor there. The important thing to note is that, recently, me and one of my friends were walking down the street with bricks in our hands. At that same moment a pair of teenage punks (and I use that word with all it's negative connotations) screeched through the intersection in front of us, vile looks all around. Now, if you're like me, and live in the 21st century, you've encountered these little pissants before. They actually come in all shapes and sizes, but "punk" or "punkass" seems to fit them to a T. Loud cars, surly attitudes, and reeking of a certain devil take the hindmost attitude. Normally, when these bastard charge an intersection, I do the rational thing and fear for my life. I might be a large individual, but compared to a car, I'm just a sack of bones surrounded by fragile life supporting organs. I might not like it, but I usually get out of their way with only a glare of bile thrown in their general direction. But, you know, that doesn't happen when you're carrying a large heavy brick in your hand. You could see these guys were quite happy with their typical Friday night shenanigans -- a 2 penny unsubtle grin on their face with respect to their carelessness for the law. But that was a grin that vanished in a look of worry and confusion when confronted with two large thug-like fellows carrying heavy bricks. I mean, I'm a big guy, and my fellow brick carrying friend is no small fellow himself. These scofflaws charged the intersection, only to be faced with strangers hefting bricks... hefting bricks for no good reason at all. Maybe those large brick fellows were there to fuck things up for those who acted like punks, aye? And, unfortunately, that moment brought me a feeling of well-being. A feeling that, haha, you lose, punk. And, like a drug, it made me think that what I really should do is carry a large iron sledge-hammer around with me when I'm negotiating city streets on a Friday or Saturday night. But hell, why should that feeling of happiness be restricted to large men who own bricks or sledge-hammers? Isn't there some way we could level the playing field? Couldn't we bring this sort of threat of mob justice to everyone at once? So no one would be affronted by punkass behavior ever again? Maybe people could develop a smaller brick that anyone could carry... but then it would have to be thrown faster. Maybe there could be brick throwing devices that people could own. Maybe if everyone walked around, loaded for bear with well known, easily recognized, lethal, brick-throwers strapped to their sides we wouldn't have to worry about uncivil punkass bastards revving their engines on a Saturday night. Well, that is, until the punks also started wearing the little brick-throwers as well. |