the cheese stands alone

Apparently "Beep" Gets You "Bleep"

The delicate art of parenting is alive and well in my genteel little corner of the world. As I stood out on my balcony yesterday, a (surprisingly) balmy afternoon, I saw the usual gaggle of grade-school kids wandering past on their ways home from the school up the street. Some of them were small enough to require adult supervision as they walked, and some had it. Some just had an adult with them.
A tiny girl was strolling along with her mother, whilst Mom chattered on the cell phone. Tiny Girl saw something in the street that must have fascinated her, because she made a beeline right out into the center of the road and stopped to poke at it with the stick she carried. Phone Mom was halfway down the block before she noticed she was alone. She stopped and shrieked "Keesha! LA-KEEESHA! You get BACK here right NOW! Doan you see Mama is on da PHONE!"
Tiny Girl, to her credit, looked up and around at the sound of her name, then went back to slowly poking the enthralling clump of whatever. Phone Mom, her parental duties completed, when back to yapping on the phone.
I live on a reasonably quiet street. Once in a while the big trucks will use it as a bypass of the more heavily traveled cross-street a block over, but usually cars just trundle through at a leisurely pace.
So when a car turned the corner and started up the block, I wasn't really concerned that Tiny Girl would become part of the squishy poked clot of crap in the street. And like a good driver who didn't want to spook Tiny Girl and cause her to run exactly in the direction he might swerve, the driver of the oncoming car slowed to a near-dead stop and beeped his horn at Tiny Girl. One short BEEP.
This has two effects... it caused Tiny Girl to slouch off to the curb, and it caused Phone Mom go to freakshow ballistic.
She waded out into the street, snatching the stick from Tiny Girl on the way and swinging like a blind pinch hitter looking for the miracle homer began smacking at the car.
"YOU DOAN EVER BE HONKING AT MY BABY GIRL, MOTHERFUCKER! I CUT YO DICK OFF AND STUFF IT UP YO ASS, YOU HEEEEEEEEEEAR ME, MOTHERFUCKER?" *smack smack smack*
The driver took the high road and drove off. Phone Mom threw down the stick in the street and stood glaring at the departing car. Tiny Girl screamed at the loss of her beloved poking stick. Then Phone Mom waddled back to the sidewalk, yanked Tiny Girl along with her by the arm, and continued her phone call as if nothing had happened.
Ovaries should only come with a license, like motorcycles or a puppy.
Oooh, or a puppy on a Harley, how cute would that be? Seriously.