Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Cootie Karma

So, I shouldn't have told those kids there was cooties in the van. Cootie karma came to bite me in the ass.

Ben and I were at Dillards after work to pick up a pair of khakis he needed for a presentation. We found a cheap pair of dockers, and were waiting at the checkout line. A mother and her two sons were ahead of us. The oldest son was in high school, while the youngest son was about 7-8.

The youngest threw himself on the floor and started doing push ups. This was funny enough, so we all laughed politely at the child making an idiot of himself.

That wasn't enough. The child then began to pull his face into a contorted leer, wiggling his tounge and hissing at us. He came running toards us, making hissing and growling noises.

"Are you preparing for Halloween?" I asked lightly, smiling. It was a stupid move. It only fueled the fire.

Now, the child launched himself into my hip bone, drooling into my skirt. It was all I could do not to fling him off. The child's mother was busying herself with paying and buried in her own psycological issues. I just stared at him. Ben was ready to fry him over a grill.

Flinging himself off the floor, he continued his pushups. These consisted of waving his butt up and down and bending his arms slightly. He launched up and again contorted his face, now hissing like a cat and spraying spit everywhere.

"Oh no!" his mother cried, dropping her things and making an effort to nose dive towards my butt. Her dear, darling child was now in the process of trying to bite my ankle. I feverishly began to think of my immunization dates and the nearest hospital route. She drug him away in a arm lock, as he snarled and tried to bite her arm.

"He had a chocolate shake," she explained weakly, smiling as she drug the beastly thing away. "So sorry for the trouble!"

"That child needs to be beaten," was Ben's response as he paid for his pants.

I swear, oh Cootie Gurus, that is the last time I will threaten a bunch of five-year-olds with cooties. In return, please do not send snarling, biting, spitting, hip bumping children to a department store near you. I think we're even after that.