It was 90 degrees that day, but I had to get out of my apartment. I decided to walk up the hill behind my apartment to the neighborhood of fancy rich-people. I like to walk around there in hopes some old millionaire will call to me from their front door and offer me a house sitting job at $500 a day. 

I’m about twenty minutes into my walk when I see a little kid sitting against a fence wearing a thick winter coat. A winter coat in this heat?! And he’s directly under the sun! Then I notice he’s also got a suitcase and a sleeping bag and I realize he’s running away from home. And he probably saw a cartoon where a kid ran away from home wearing a winter coat and thinks its necessary. Kids are stupid. 

I like talking to kids because, like I just said, they’re stupid- and impressionable. I bet I can help turn his life around. 

“Hey, kid. Why are you wearing that coat? It’s like 100 degrees.” 

no answer. I continue

“Hey, kid. I know running away seems like the cool solution, but its not. You’ll have no bed, no snacks, no video games, no love. The streets are tough especially for a kid.”

He still won’t look at me, but he starts talking. “I’m not running away. I’m spending the night at my dad’s house. He’s picking me up”

Now before when I said I liked talking to kids, I didn’t mean all kids. I don’t like talking to handicapped kids, crying kids, ugly kids, or kids with divorced parents. There are too many wrong things I can say. 

So I need to get away quick. I stand up and.. that’s it. I can’t move. I can’t talk. I’m just frozen there next to this kid with divorced parents. I suddenly believe in ghosts. I’m positive a ghost is holding me there to torture me. Fuck I hate ghosts. I want to cry and I hate ghosts

A minute later the kid’s dad pulls up and gets out of his car. And as soon as I see him I’m out of my trance. And I realize that it wasn’t a ghost holding me there. It was Jesus Christ. Jesus was telling me, “Just hold on! One more minute!” 

You see, a week earlier an old man in a truck flipped me off for no reason. I tried to get his plate number, but he turned too quick and I was crying so hard that I couldn’t drive and follow him. I prayed to Jesus that night to help me find him and THAT KID’S DAD WAS THE MAN WHO FLIPPED ME OFF. I FOUND HIM. JESUS HELPED 

The man tells his son to get in the car and turns to me,

“Was he bothering you or something?”

I’m shaking. “Its not your son that bothers me.” (super bad ass)

“Excuse me?”

I point to his back car, “Your tire’s low.”

When he bends to look I grab a brick from my purse and hit him in the back of the head. He falls and screams, “Why?!” I dance around him and give him the finger. I also yell at him to make his son take off his coat because his fucking hot.

I left that rich neighborhood feeling like the richest person alive!