Childish Bastards

I live across the street from an elementary school. I don't have central air so that means the windows are often open and there is no question if it is a school day. There are kids playing, always.

Sitting in our bedroom, Mrs. Bastard and I looked up at the same time as the shrill screaming went on long enough to capture our already-tuning-you-out attention.

"There's always that kid who thinks screaming is fun," I said.

"Ugh, I think I was that kid." She admitted.

"Good think we didn't meet in elementary school."

She agreed. It wouldn't have worked.