Harry swept

Harry was cleaning up the mess left behind by those rotten kids. Those kids ran up and down the neighborhood and just threw their junk all over the sidewalk and on Harry’s ramp.  He had a ramp that led up to his front porch and all the children used it for their bike, tricycle, power wheel, roller skate, skateboard and whatever other stupid transportation device their fool parents bought them, turn around. So all the kids would leave their ice cream wrappers and candy remains strewn about his sidewalk and front porch area.

It was so aggravating because when Harry was a child he wouldn’t dream of disrespecting his neighbor’s property. He couldn’t understand why all these jerk children just had no respect for things that weren’t theirs.  He considered it was their parents. They were all idiots, telling their children how precious and special they were all the time. Harry knew that not all children were special or precious, some grew up to be Hitler or Stalin. He mused as he swept the sidewalk that he was pretty sure one of these kids would certainly grow up to be a complete cretin.

He had his eye on this little chubby kid named Ethan, of all things. He was a really fat little butter ball of a boy. He had tits. It was gross. The kid was probably only eight years old but he had tits bigger than Harry’s poor deceased wife. Fat little Ethan was the most disrespectful of the bunch and always had something smart-assed to say when anyone yelled at him. Harry had caught little Ethan taking a piss on Mrs. Stafford’s front lawn a month ago. Harry yelled from his porch for Ethan to stop that and to go home if he had to piss. Ethan just continued pissing and then yelled back, “When you gotta go, you gotta go”.

Harry was completely flabbergasted at that. He imagined himself running off his porch, down the ramp and grabbing that smart-ass by the neck and shaking the shit out of him till all the strength was gone from his arms. But Harry just wasn’t that young anymore and the idea of running anywhere faded 20 years ago. He did consider telling Ethan’s parents, but they were never home. They were a full time working couple of some kind. Ethan seemed to spend a lot of time with some cleaning lady or housekeeper or something.  Plus the kid was so fat and lifting him by his neck, well, that probably would have ruined Harry’s back.

Harry put his broom away in the garage and then went back around the front to the porch to get a full panoramic view of the area he just cleaned. Harry appreciated cleanliness on his property. He couldn’t understand why anyone would let the front of their home look like some dirty communists lived there. He’d seen the type, all dingy and unkempt. He knew those commies were always in their basements, plotting, not taking care of their property because it was really the States and not theirs. He figured they were easy to spot that way and maybe that’s what McCarthy should have been focused on instead of who was what in Hollywood. Would have gotten a lot more commies that way.

Harry sat on the porch bench and reached for his lemonade. Except, there was no lemonade. Margie had been dead 12 years and wasn’t around to put his lemonade there like she did for all those years after he did yard work. Harry dropped his outstretched hand to his lap and felt the tears welling in his eyes.

He fought against them and muttered, “No. No more crying”. He looked back out over the neighborhood and he saw some of the neighborhood kids starting to emerge from their homes for their afternoon playtime. The sunlight was golden through the trees and somewhere a breeze rustled the grass.