clap your hands

Longmont is a quiet, sleepy town. Wait. That's how every murder mystery begins. I take it back. Longmont is a crazy place full of mayhem and ruffians, and by ruffians I mean teenage boys in low-ride pants playing hacky sack outside the Safeway. I'll admit, I get nervous walking past their circle of coolness. What if they hack the sack at my head? What if they yell some rude remark, like "Hey! You look pregnant!"? I just don't trust them. But I have to do my grocery shopping, so passing them can't be avoided. The other day I was in an unusually brave mood, and I dared to look over and see what mischief the group was up to. I was delighted to find that they had taken a break from malarchy, and each hooligan held a piece of chocolate cake in one hand, a spoon in the other, and a smile on their face. I would love to know how that came to be. Whose idea was it to take a dessert break? Was it met with resistance or general excitement? Was marijuana involved in the decision? Regardless, I'm happy to know that even those who scare me have a certain sweetness about them, even if it is just a tooth.