"Ashley, I..." she said, as she touched my shoulder, screamed, wet herself, and yanked her hand back. "What the fudge what that?!?!?"
"What the fudge was what?"
"Nothing. Anyway, I..." She touched the same shoulder again and was shocked again. "That's not right!"
Now, in my defense, it didn't hurt me at all. I love static!
"You know, child, that the only magick I currently practice on a regular basis is my daily work in shielding myself, right? I put up a shield intended to protect me from those who might harm me. And also, from the Forces of Good."
"You think I'm a Force for Good? When did you start thinking that?"
I closed the random person's e-mail and turned to face her. "Well, I was just this morning mentally comparing you to some of the great evil-doers of our time. Charles Manson, my brother, Mahatma Gandhi..."
The rude child interrupted me! "Wait, what? Gandhi?!?!?"
She's very excitable.
"Of course, Gandhi. He was a British agent."
"..."
What the HECK are they teaching in school these days? "Look, he convinced his whole country that the best way to resist the British oppression was to make a nasty face at them and not fight back."
"But..."
"Also, his lifestyle had him frequently on his hands and knees, and going barefoot, so that his hands, knees and feet built up thick, hard layers of skin. His hands couldn't have been used for any kind of fine work."
"Really?"
"And his uber-strict diet left him not only very underweight and malnourished, but, combined with his dental hygiene, left him with very bad breath."
"So how does all that make him evil?"
"It doesn't. It makes him a super-calloused fragile mystic vexed with halitosis."
She simply put her face in her hands and walked away, mumbling "You're weird."
So you can understand when I say that children today just don't make sense. Maybe I'm getting too old to understand them.
In retrospect, I never did find out what she wanted to talk about.
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