Yes, there are bad kids
Some people say there are no bad kids. That's a crock. Jackie saw one today at the doctor's waiting room. The boy of 7 or 8 had misbehaved when he saw the doctor so his grandfather explained why it wasn't the thing to do. The kid said, "And the point?"
Sounds like he'll be another Ronnie. When my 12-and-under baseball team used to practice at the field behind the high school Ronnie, who was about 10, would show up and sound off. He was better than anyone else and knew more than anyone else so he always had smart remarks for the players and sometimes for me. I'd chase him away but he'd keep running his mouth all the way home, which was just across the street.
He never changed and was still that way when he played on the high school's junior varsity basketball team during his sophomore year. The filth that came out of his mouth exceeded his talent.
Nothing changed when summer came. He had a bad word for everyone he'd see. One day a neighbor heard his mother say, "Ronnie, your dad wants you to take the trash can out to the curb."
Ronnie was right in form. "Tell the old bastard to do it himself."
That seemed to be the final straw and the old bastard couldn't take it any more. When he arrived home after work he was carrying a shotgun. No one knew if Ronnie had a few choice words before he was blown to pieces. Dad used the other barrel on himself so when the mother returned home she had some clean-up work ahead of her after the police left.
No such thing as a bad kid? Those who say that never met Ronnie. The bleeding hearts will contend it was the fault of the parents or he needed counseling. They're wrong. Ronnie got exactly what he needed. It just took a while for him to get it.
Sounds like he'll be another Ronnie. When my 12-and-under baseball team used to practice at the field behind the high school Ronnie, who was about 10, would show up and sound off. He was better than anyone else and knew more than anyone else so he always had smart remarks for the players and sometimes for me. I'd chase him away but he'd keep running his mouth all the way home, which was just across the street.
He never changed and was still that way when he played on the high school's junior varsity basketball team during his sophomore year. The filth that came out of his mouth exceeded his talent.
Nothing changed when summer came. He had a bad word for everyone he'd see. One day a neighbor heard his mother say, "Ronnie, your dad wants you to take the trash can out to the curb."
Ronnie was right in form. "Tell the old bastard to do it himself."
That seemed to be the final straw and the old bastard couldn't take it any more. When he arrived home after work he was carrying a shotgun. No one knew if Ronnie had a few choice words before he was blown to pieces. Dad used the other barrel on himself so when the mother returned home she had some clean-up work ahead of her after the police left.
No such thing as a bad kid? Those who say that never met Ronnie. The bleeding hearts will contend it was the fault of the parents or he needed counseling. They're wrong. Ronnie got exactly what he needed. It just took a while for him to get it.
posted by Dick Stodghill | 6/11/2009 01:04:00 PM
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