I had just left the house on my motorcycle the other day when I passed by two neighbor kids. I normally roll by at 20MPH or so until I hit the main street that leads out of our development. My bike isn’t super loud, but I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. There are also a lot of kids in my neighborhood, and who knows what kind of weird shit they’ll try to do. As such, the two neighborhood boys were able to run close alongside me. They waved like two dudes stranded on an island desperate to flag down a rescue plane. I waved back with my left hand (the throttle’s on the right).

“HAAY!” one of them screamed. “GIVE US A RIDE!”

I shook my head at them. One, I don’t take passengers. Two, I don’t really like kids. Three, they weren’t wearing any protective gear, and I don’t own helmets that fit midgets.

The boys frowned. “YOU’RE MEAN!!” the first boy shouted.

“Yes,” I replied, nodding my helmeted head. “Yes I am.”

I broke my rule and cranked hard on the throttle. Cylon screamed. Exhaust poofed out like smoke from a dragon’s nostrils. I dipped low on the right side of my bike, and disappeared around the corner.

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