Picking up the pieces

Rather than writing about it, I decided to even more concern myself with actions. Those actions this time inspired me to write again. I chose the aggressive way to react to an aggressive kind of youth wanting to inspire fear upon me. No worries, there wasn't violence (though I must admit, it was kind of tempting to throw the kid into the nearby water), but I did raise my voice. Combine this with the knowledge that I have a loud voice and that the surroundings were as good as a roman Arena for using it, this must have had some impact. The annoying little kid immediately started bragging to his friends about how I couldn't do a thing about him. True, legally, I couldn't.

Let's just get to the first point. The guy came from behind me with his cell phone rubbishing out gangster-talk or something aggressive these kids call music. He was a white kid, I'd say 14, short hair (but not too short), dyed blond and combed into spikes, with at least one shiny fake-gold piece of crapmetal decorating his ear, riding some crappy old, black bike. Though it might have been another colour - I didn't pay much attention to it, and it was dark. The guy gave me this kind of stare that said I shouldn't be singing (I was) or whatever it was meant to do. I wasn't impressed and just stared back coldly, probably giving him the impression that I dissapproved of his music. Quite frankly, I do - but as long as its on the street, I don't mind much. It's the attitude that comes with it that bothers me.

So, along he rode. Before too long I heard some talking up in the street and riding down came two bikes: the guy and another bike hosting two customers of equally valuable nature. Same age, I guess, foul-mouthed as well, though the first guy was obviously their leader. I let them go, kept an eye on my dog (whom I was taking for a walk) and raised a new song. Since I had finished my old one, and I thought that keeping quiet might encourage them to become bold or worse - let them think I was impressed. Now, in my vision, letting them think I'm impressed is the worst I can do. Maybe for now, they'll leave me alone - but it also means they can scare people if they want, whenever they want. Implicitly, letting them think anything tells them they're right.

So, I raised a song. Walked on for a bit, onto the area around the basketball field. Along comes Mr. Teenage Foulmouth and rides past, about half a meter (if not less) from my dog. Had he been closer, he could have hit him. That, for me, was the trigger. If he has a problem with me, let him come at me, but he should stay away from my dog. The dog can't help it, and if the dog bites him because he feels threatened, guess who gets the death penalty? Not Mr. Foulmouth. So I told the bastard, though the name I called him was less prudent, to whatch where he was going. My dog went after him, and since the dog does have a history of chasing bikes and being dominant, I called back on him quite fiercely. The guy acted like the dog wasn't going to do anything (luckily for him, the dog wasn't, or I would have been too late, I think).

Anyway, when we went up the stairs towards the streets, I called the dog close to me to avoid him chasing another dog. The guy started taunting me about calling my dog and I shouted at him to shut the f4 up.

I'm kind of regretting I didn't throw him in the water. I might have, had it not been for the fact that I had to watch my dog.