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Not so much my evil as evil observed.

Taylor is a tiny, fit-in-your-pocket first-grader who is nice to everybody. Not the sort of sneaky nice where she waits till you turn your back to cause mayhem, just a genuinely sweet kid. Three of the meaner types decide it's fun to pick on her because she's little. Taylor is upset but tries not to show it, goes and plays with other kids. The jerks follow her, making up songs about how short / stupid / ugly / useless she is. I will admit that some of the songs are pretty good.

I get distracted from this issue by some other damn issue. By the time I turn my attention back to the girls, they are separate again - three troublemakers, whispering in a worried huddle, and Taylor, alone, bent over by the far fence in the playground, throwing up.

The three bad girls admit that Taylor threw up because she got so upset about their teasing. They do not make fun of this; they are scared. They will not say what pushed her over the puking edge.

After Taylor is cleaned up and taken off to a cool quiet room with no bastards in it, I take these three girls over to the puddle of puke. We stand around it in silence. There are gummy bears in it. We do not leave until they are all crying.

We spent the day looking for a different car (NOT new, just different!) I observe the car salesmen in three different establishments, all greasy and old with murky souls and slippery words. I curse them all in my head. I am sick of hearing how cute my children are – I KNOW THEY ARE CUTE KIDS MOTHERFUCKERS JUST SELL ME A GODDAMN CAR! The last place we go too is a Buy-here-pay-here cheap ass place and the salesman makes some crack about “The clientele” as if he is above it all, when in truth he is a car salesman and spends all day rolling in the slop that supposedly offends him. To top it off, he looks like Humpty Dumpty (or, as my two year old would say, “Humpy Dumpy”). He stops us in the middle of finance talk to mention that he and his wife can not have children. I look at the photo on his desk and note that his wife could also go by the nickname Humpy Dumpy. He is not really playing me as well as he thinks. Finally he tells us he “needs” $7,900 for the crappy ten-year-old wagon we just test-drove and I start laughing. He drops the price to $6,900. I get up and take the car seats out of the shitty wagon, with the blue book value of $3,125, all the while cursing the fat pinheaded fuck under my breath for wasting my time AGAIN, even though he promised not too. On the way out the door I have this thought, which is where the evil part comes in: Of course you and your wife can’t have kids! You are both too egg shaped to make genital contact!!!

Evil rating: 9, only falling short of 10 because I did not say it out loud.

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