Kickable Kidz (CRYM’s Back!)
I hope y’all missed me, ’cause I’m back with more rants, stories, and refreshing perspective than ever. If you want to be ahead of the curve, check out http://thatniggacrym.tumblr.com to see my content a few days before I post it here. That said, I’d like to tell a personal story about a portion of my family I particularly hate.
Today, my aunt and her two small girls are coming in for a visit, which means its time to break out my armor of solitude (otherwise known as “being an antisocial jackass”) and steel toe boots, which I only wish were not metaphorical. To a casual observer, this armageddon-type preparation seems like an overreaction, but I know better. You see, these children are a juggernaut of irritation and occasional surprise brute force. They jump, climb, kick, beat, scratch, bite, and expel fluids and gases…all on me. If I’m lucky, sometimes my little brother is around to soak up some of this satanic infantile punishment, but not often. They are four and six years old, and they are a nightmare. To give y’all an idea of the hell that cometh from Grand Rapids, Michigan: A few months back, when I still had braces, (lawl) I was subjected to a veritable tempest of plastic dinosaurs with spines, heads, and tails chewed to shuriken sharpness. When the tiny demons ran out of prehistoric ammunition, the youngest climbed up on the chair where I was sitting and straight-up punched me in the mouth, obliterating the insides of my lips as the second-world discount orthodontia shredded them like CIA Taliban funding-recording documents. When I held her arms to prevent a second onslaught, she began to cry horrifically and tell my aunt that I had hit her. She believed her (facepalm). This comic tragedy reincarnates itself with every all-too-frequent visit, and between physical torment, borderline ASPCA PSA-worthy abuse of my dog, and shrieks of “I wanna watch PimPamfer (gargoyle for “Pink Panther”)”, I’m sure you all can understand why I dread the arrival of these subhumans, whom I’ve taken to referring to as “the kickables” due to their high rating on the kickability scale. My body is ready, my boots are laced.