I remember the days when Halloween was about dressing up in costume and trolling the neighborhood for the best trick or treat candy. As we got older the costumes got more suggestive and we traded trick or treating for parties with our friends and crushes. Ahh, the good old days.
Enter the Hoodrats.
Hoodrat run-in #1-This little no-home training having urchin threw eggs at my car. While I was still in it. I know teenagers like to play pranks, you know like toilet papering trees, egging houses, and all of that. I don’t like it, but teenagers will do what they do (especially the boys). But who throws eggs at a car while the driver is still in it? Drive-by egging? Alone? I would have better understood if the boy way with some of his friends, but this fool was alone. He’s lucky that I was in good Halloween spirits, otherwise he would have gotten some hellacious wrath. What he got was a good big-sister-variety talking to, and I made him pay to have my car washed.
Hoodrat run-in #2-I got a knock on my door, and expecting it to be another group of trick or treaters I went to get the bowl of candy. By the time I opened the door, they were up the stairs leading out of my building but my door was covered in shaving cream. Blue shaving cream. I didn’t get to harangue this group of kids though.
Hoodrat run-in #3-Another knock on the door. I went for the candy bowl once again. I opened the door and in front of me stood three nearly grown-ass boys and one ghetto-ass girl. No costumes, but bags open expecting candy. No “trick or treat, smell my feet…”, just blank stares. I asked them how old they were, and almost in unison they responded, “Lady, dat ain’t none of yo’ bidness”. What. the. hell. So I said, “Excuse me, I’m an adult, not one of your friends, don’t you know you don’t speak to grown people like that? You don’t even have costumes on, so how are you gonna come to my door and ask for candy? Matter of fact, you scraggly asses didn’t even have the nerve to say ‘trick or treat’ when I opened the door. Get off my damn doorstep.” The ghetto girl said “Well fuck you then, we don’t want your candy no way”. *SLAM!* Closed the door in their faces and went on with my evening. (By the way, I don’t give out cheap candy. I give the good stuff like Snickers and Twix)
I could go on for days about the horrible hoodrat values being passed on to kids today, but I’ll spare you for now. However I will say that parents can spend inordinate amounts of money buying their kids whatever the latest ‘gotta have it’ is, but home-training is free! I don’t care if you discipline your children with time out or whoop some ass now and again–whatver it takes–just PLEASE teach them some manners. Or at least have Aretha spell it out for them…
R-E-S-P-E-C-T, what a novel concept.