Darryl just got spit on. This is what he tells me.
We are at the local internet/playground/cafe. It is the only place I can take him without risking my lungs ripping my chest apart.
I don't know how to handle this. The kid is a year younger than Darryl. Darryl wants me to go talk to the kid. The kid's mother is with three of her friends. The playground is a series of intermingled multicolor pipelines. Fitting for the city. The kids run through the pipeline system like a bunch of oil molecules heading to Cushing.
Darryl doesn't lie. I just don't want to scare the kid and have all three mother's surrounding me.
Darryl go talk to his Mommy. She is right over there.
She looks mean.
Yeah, she does and so do her friends.
What should I do?
Go tell her. She will either ignore you or find her son.
No thanks. He runs off.
Crisis averted. I know. I am a coward. But really. This kid isn't going to listen to me and I can't be fighting child playground skirmishes for Darryl. You play with the nice kids and stay away from the bad ones. Rules to live by in life.
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