That’s why I don’t like someone elses kids

The last couple of days gave me once again some moments of enlightenment and awareness. But let’s go waaayyy back to the past where I was a little kid and let us say for example my parents took me to some of their friends or acquaintances. It mainly followed this one schema, the little kid version of mine appeared there with one or two small toy cars or some Lego and I used to be quiet and polite and played with my toys where I didn’t disturb anyone. Until today do I expect this same behaviour from someone elses children, but correct me if I’m wrong or simply call me the intollerant old-fashioned, days seem to have changed. Nowadays the kids ain’t got respect for anything and I mean ANYthing. I don’t have any children and till now I don’t want any either and so it comes that my whole flat wasn’t made “kids safe” and there’s barely any entertainment for kids, too though. What happens when children appear in my flat is now pretty predictable, they simply get bored, because for some reasons kids today are not very foresighted or in some cases their parents. They don’t bring their own toys, nothing to engage or bother themselves and this is where the wish for total destruction comes into play.

These kids start to complain and yell about everything. Some shit takes too long. Some shit tastes not good. Some shit is like boring. They start to touch and grab everything. Turn electronic devices off that were on and vice versa. They start to do some kind of a dance on my living room table. They want to drink and eat all kinds of shit and in some cases I look into the eyes of a mother filled up with question marks asking me why I do not have this stuff. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any children and I do not f#§%ing care? Sometimes pregancy seems to kill brain cells though.

Let’s get it this way, when I visit one of my friends I know how they live, what food and drinks they got at home and all this kind of things. If I go by and visit someone I would enter their flat, find me a seat and try to be a nice visitor and don’t wander around touching and grapping everything. And that’s a standard since I started to think. If I visit them and they don’t have the drinks or the food that I want to drink or eat I simply bring it with or just let it be – period. I am so glad that my parents brought me up so well. My conclusion for the future is the following, I’ll kick these bloody kids and their f#§%ing genitors out of my flat until they’ve learned how to behave well in someone elses home and property and gained some respect. Until then, I try to fix some of my ripped posters, continue cleaning the carpet, try to find the batteries for my remote controls and buy me a rabies infected doberman…

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