Annie O’Cassidy
Insolent Child
I glared at this ballsy freshman with the demented smile of a New Orleans momma that said ‘The second these guests leave I’m gon’ beat yo’ ass so hard you miss yo’ own graduation.’ I cracked my knuckles as another freshman felt inclined to weigh in, and then dismissed him with a hand motion. This was a freshman to senior matter now. He could’ve just poked his peers, but of course that would not have satisfied this foolhardy boy, seeing as he had a death wish when it came to pissing off people. I frankly didn’t care what he had to say. It was time to make sure this child learned some respect.
“Anyway,” I said, dismissing the other freshman’s commentary once again while pointing vindictively at him, “You’re gonna listen, and you’re gonna listen good, got it?”
My accent, by now, had shifted fully into the pits of fiery Jewish yat, and clearly indicated that I would not hesitate to put him over my knee if given the chance.
“You waltz in here, with yo’ big swagger ‘n’ shit eatin’ grin ‘n’ come up to me, an’ start talkin’ trash, an’ seem to expect no consequences fo’ it. Look me in ‘e eyes when A’m speakin’ to ya. Look at ‘em. A’m wealt’y fo’ one reason, an’ one only: My entiyah goddamn family died in New Orleans,” I hissed, pointing vindictively at him, “N’ if ya don’ stop runnin’ yo trap real soon, you gon’ meet ‘em real quick and dey’ll tell ya all about it. A don’ give a flying fuck what kinda half-assed cliché dreams yo’ bitch ass has, but you ain’t gon’ live to see dem if you keep on fuckin’ with me. Da school administration loves my ass, ‘n’ if you start shit, it’s you who finna get t’row t’ru da disciplary gauntlet. So take yo’ haughty little bitch ass mofo face outta mine in da next five second o’ find out where da fuck God lives. Got it?”
I took down my hand, and cracked my neck for emphasis.
“A try to be nice, but A’m Irish and New Orleanian, an’ we ain’ gon’ put up with no bullshit. So cut da crap and siddown like ev’rybody else ‘n’ play nice.”
I huffed at him, and went to go get dessert, muttering, “He come back here A’ll put him t’rough a fuckin’ wall…Hey, could I please get a little vanilla ice cream cup? Thanks!”
My diction changed on a dime, and I was eager to cool down and be left alone by such ostentatious bastards.
