so i'm walking home up walnut street, i pass two kids, about eight years old, i get ten steps past them and one of them turns around and hits me in the back with a broken beer bottle. i was wearing a coat, so it didn't hurt, but i was startled. i whirl around, one of them yells something rude that he didn't learn on sponge bob, and the other one throws what i presume was the other half of the broken beer bottle. since he had an arm like charlie brown and was a good 15 feet away so i was able to step out of it's path but i was ... really dismayed.
i spent the rest of the walk home in somber thought; contemplating the extrapolation of their little lives, following a myriad of unfortunate trails that i could see branching out from the sort of attitude which has you throwing broken bottles at people bigger than you when you're eight.
when i arrived home, i discovered that someone has stolen our last remaining trash can, sometime between 8:00 this morning and now.
