a velvet hand in an iron glove (missfrost) wrote,
a velvet hand in an iron glove
missfrost

Local Gay Kid

I've just been watching one of the local betracksuited kids dragging another kid along on roller blades by a piece of rope, or string, or chain. This looked, and sounds, a bit weird, until I clocked who he was. We have names for a lot of the neighbours, having not actually made their proper acquaintance - The Fat Woman, who takes an hour to get in and out of her car and has a slave boy (her son) to carry the shopping in (known as Fatty's Boy), Gilbert & George (two smart old gents), the Chav Family Robinson (speaks for itself), Lee Nelson (in real life), and that weird vintage obsessive opposite us (oh sorry, that's Luigia, she's actually our good friend! We really call her Neighbs, and vice versa.) There's also Flat Bed Truck Man, who Andrew probably hasn't seen, but we greet each other every morning as I return from a night shift and he sets off for a day's work. I have no idea what he does, being as he sets off and returns every day with an empty flat bed on his truck, and also has a noticeable hunched back, or scoliosis, or something, but he's at least a neighbour I know to say hi to. Oh, and there's Karen Matthews, who used to live opposite and was probably a lovely mum to her kids; she just looked to me like Karen Matthews.
But Local Gay Kid is a new phenomenon. He was whizzing around on his roller blades the other night with all the other kids (roller blades are so back in this year, have you noticed?) but he was doing so much more. He was speed-skating with all the left/right/left sweeping arm movements that a pro would do, and his stopping had a flourish to it, rather than the skid-stop of the other kids. I named him Local Gay Kid, and wished him luck. Today he was on his blades and dragging a girl round (also on blades, not just actually carting her along) and at first sight he looked to be just 'dragging her along', on a string. But they were doing moves. When you watched for a while, he was dragging her and then moving the rope to do an actual dance-like swirl, an acrobatic swirling around. What had looked like a kid in a grey tracksuit dragging a mate around on roller skates with a bit of rope was clearly nothing of the sort. Good luck, Local Gay Kid. Good on you.
But while I have been writing this I went to the shop and managed to get ripped off. Small child in front of me at the till, maybe 10 or 12 at most. He had two confectionery items. "£1.10" says the guy. "Oh, I thought it was £1" says the kid sadly, and looks around, even more sadly. So of course I offer the 10p, the kid runs off happily, and the shop bloke sighs and says "he does that every time you know?"
So now I'm obviously torn between admiring the entrepreneurship of the little twat, or just thinking 'you little twat.'
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