Tuesday, May 14, 2013

There is never a good time for a bad joke

So you know that night that I was at Starbucks and saw the fisherman strutting his stuff?

Well that was not the only random sighting that night.

I was reading an article in the magazine and noticed something out of the corner of my eye that caught my attention. It was a kid somewhere between 14 and 17 I would guess. A boy with pimply skin, gangly legs that makes every jean look like a skinny jean, red hair, orange and green plaid shirt and a backpack. He didn't exude a lot of confidence if that is something you can judge within  1 second. His expression was more somber and he stared down a lot.

Then I noticed that he was carrying something - wait a minute - no it couldn't be. My heart skipped a beat. My breath was short. I was instantly nauseous. He was carrying a gun. I couldn't get a good view of it yet - I needed him to take a couple more steps - before I could assess if this was a toy or real. Praying. Praying. wwwhhhhhheeeeewwwwww It was a toy gun.

Instantly my mind wonders why?  I want to shake him. I want to exclaim to him "You gotta know that isn't an optimal thing to be carrying as you walk along the mall exterior. You are carrying a back pack. It doesn't fit? Of course it does! "

As I slowly return to my magazine I hear digital sound effects growing louder. You know the sound that is digitally created to represent a gun with a silencer on it. (if you listen carefully you can imagine my pitch raised a bit and I am making a pew pew pew sound). That sound. I look up and there is my new friend. He is now walking back the other way pointing the gun at a variety of passerby's and pulling the trigger. Pew pew pew fills the air.

I really want this to be a bad joke. I really want to laugh. I want to shake my head with a little comment of 'too far' under my breath. I want to feel light. I want to think that he was just checking to make sure those new batteries were working. I want to assume he has no clue. But there is a part of me that just can't.

Oh my - be with that boy. Someone please take the time to really look at him. Someone reach out in a way to touch him deeper than I could in that moment. And I find myself praying again. This time praying for him. His weirdness. His emotional health. Hoping and praying that he isn't the sullen kid he appears to be. That he knows the difference between right and wrong and chooses right. Please choose right.

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