I blame Darwin

Evolutionarily speaking, I am a step or two behind a modern human.
No, I do not have a bony ridge on my forehead or multiple layers of teeth.
I am lactose intolerant.
I get depressed without a steady supply of red meat.
I am considered "obese" by the modern BMI.
I cant sleep for longer than 4 hours at a stretch.
I have certain triggers that completely trump my thin veneer of civilization.
Like a fish.
Its like this, if you are fishing, and the fish wont bite. If they are just full up with bugs, or little fish, or whatever it is that they are eating and wont even look at what fly or bait or whatever it is that you are tempting them with.
You put something red on the hook. Just a little flashy piece of red.
Blood in the water.
Its instinctive, hard wired into their cold little brains.
They see blood, they hit it.
Every year, on the forth of July. My little family rides our bicycles over to the park to watch the fireworks display.
We have been doing this for 14 years now.
Same park, same route, same everything.
Its a tradition.
This year was no different, we loaded up the backpacks with blankets, the cooler with drinks and the bike basket with the little plastic snap glowing things that the kids love to run amok with, and headed out.
Fun for all.
Child 1 (15 and beautiful) was in the front, followed by me, child 2 (10 and beautiful) was behind me and the wife (beautiful) was pedaling rear guard. Just a normal traditional fourth of July.
There was a plain black car, following us all, politely slow and fairly well back. The streets were thronged with park goers and the energy and excitement that Americans have for this Holiday was buzzing through the air.
Then this fucking hipster opens his door and knocks child 1 off her bike and into the street.
She did not hit the door, he hit her with the door. Right on her side. She spun a full circle and landed on her back in the street. The backpack full of blankets and her helmeted head hitting the ground.
The hipster stood up, had he, at this point, rushed over to the child, expressed remorse in any way, behaved or acted in any way apologetic. I like to think that the outcome would have been different.
Perhaps not.
What he did do, was raise both his arms in this relatively new gesture that has come to mean "WTF!" and yell to the world "What the Fuck! My Car!"
Blood in the water.
I hit him with my right hand 2 running steps after jumping off my bike.
To his credit, he reacted fast and tried to hit me back.
Sadly for him, he appeared to be an evolved human. 6' 4 or 5", well built, a milk drinker, an eight hour sleeper, a chicken and vegetable eater, a perfectly proportioned BMI.
I grabbed the wrist of the hand he was swinging at me, and his collarbone with my left hand. Then i hit him about 30 times.
Maybe more.
He tried to get away at some point, by crawling into his car.
So i bounced his head off the roof of his car a few times, denting it and his head.
Then I crawled into the car after him.
Still hitting him, and choking him.
You see, I really needed to tell him something.
Through the roaring in my ears I suddenly became aware of several things.
A childs voice, coupled with a bike bell. Ding ding "daddy stop" ding ding "daddy stop"
A wifes Voice, yelling at me to come check child one.
And another voice. Machine amplified. "SIR! SIR! STEP AWAY FROM THE VEHICLE" these amidst the normal cacophony of holidaying humans.
So, I hit him a few more times.
Then I whispered a few words into his ear.
Just a few.
Exiting the car I found my way blocked by a small man pointing a taser at me.
He was saying some thing?
I could see my child then, behind him, still laying in the road.
Blood in the water.
I forearmed the small man to the ground and went to my child.
She was ok.
Helmets and a backpack full of blankets kept her injuries to a sore arm and a mild concussion.
The black car?
Yes, a policeman.
He saw the whole thing, and like me, he thought the hipster had done it on purpose.
The hipster had been drinking, a lot. He and his wife were actually sitting in their car fighting about how much he had been drinking.
So, as darkness fell this fourth of July. I found myself, with my family, sitting on a curb.
Waiting.
Other policemen arrived.
They took statements.
Asked questions.
Gave me the eye.
The first Policeman, who has Daughters as well, convinced the Hipster not to press charges against me.
By the simple method of telling the hipster that he would support me in my counter-suit for causing "intentional bodily harm" to my child.
All's well that ends well.
We continued to the park.
Watched the fireworks.
Went home.
The hipster, a bit rough looking now, what with the bruises and dried blood, apologized to my child. His wife apologized to my wife. There were tears.
My ears were still roaring.
The only things I could hear were the voices of my Family.
I said nothing.
At home I kissed them all and sent them to bed.
Then I sat.
Alone in the dark.
Smoke blowing in the night sky.
Fading, diluting, vanishing.
Blood in the water.

Jaded

I used to be a nice guy. Helping old ladies across the street, slaying dragons, giving money to those in need, smiling.
No longer.
My brother told me a story the other day.
He had been getting these snarky little notes stuck to his door from some anonymous asshole. Fatuous threats and foul imprecations penned by this gutless wretch would appear as if by magic on his door.
Requesting that he not have fires in his back yard.
Which he never had.
Demanding that he not have fires in his back yard.
Which he still had not had.
Threatening to call the Police if he did not cease to have fires in his back yard.
He went and double checked his backyard just to be sure.
No fire.
So imagine his delight when one night (fire less night) a knock came at his door and there stood the asshole in all his puckerish splendour.
The conversation went something like this.
Brother of Tom: Are you the asshole that's been leaving notes on my door?
Puckered asshole: I might have been
BOT: Well ....
At this point the Wife of the Brother of Tom smoothly stepped in and told BOT to go check the Baby.
Conveniently the baby was crying.
BOT tried to get passed the WOTBOT but she was Gandalf.
And the Baby screamed on.
So, defeated by WOTBOT and screaming baby BOT sulked away. Thanks to the WOTBOTs timely and wifely intervention the asshole lives to squirt another day.
I think they do that on purpose.
Wives.
Stop us from punishing the stupid.
It makes us ornery.
Mad.
Not nice.
I used to be a nice guy.
A girl came up to me while I was waiting for the wife at the grocery store. Our child #1 was very fresh and new. She liked to cry.
The girl told me a story, complete with tears, about her and her Baby. Their car. Sadly out of gas and just wanting to get home.
I gave her all the money I had, and when wife came back from the baby formula excursion, I gave the girl with tears all the money she had as well.
It was the tears.
A month later.
Walking into a store in another parking lot, Me holding the wee infant, Wife and MIL up ahead talking about whatever it is that they talk about.
I am approached by a man.
He tells me a story.
Complete with tears, that sounds strangely familiar.
Car,Gas,Baby,Home.
At his emotional conclusion he gestured to his car.
Inside the car sat.
The girl with tears.
Same story, same girl.
It is very hard to rage when you are holding a wee infant.
But I did my best.
I was screaming at the Wife to come and take the infant from me so I could crush this miserable pandering puckered asshole into the ground.
I had it all planned out.
Hand the wee infant to the wife. Crush the PPA into the ground, use his head to break out the windows of his car and than take all of his valuables.
Stymied.
Wife would not let me play.
The wee infant was left in my arms.
No manner of begging would sway her.
She was adamant.
So, in wee infants first adventure I chased the (by now) very alarmed extremely puckered panicked asshole to his car.
Yelling.
The Girl with tears recognised me when I kicked the car.
I saw it in her tear free eyes.
The wee infant chose this moment to have a blow out.
For those of you that are not parents, a "blow out" is when baby poo is so forcefully expelled by the baby that it shoots out the legs of the diaper and coats the surrounding area, or dad, with baby poo.
Lots of Baby poo.
The evil doers escaped.
I hung my head.
Wives.
They do that stuff on purpose.