There I was sitting in one of the restaurants before another Christmas show was suppose to start, and this kid sitting at another table looks at me. "Hey, that's a stupid hat," he says.
I look at him. He was wearing a "My Chemical Romance" shirt and an attitude. "Bite me, you little punk."
He stands up, all 100 pounds of him. "Bite me?" he says. "Bite me?" he approaches, then sticks out his hand and grins. "Hey, cool. Nice to meet you. I'm Jeff."
"I'm John. Nice shirt."
I shook his hand. He then sat down and told me all about My Chemical Romance, how much he liked Insane Clown Posse more, about his favorite video (it's on Youtube - that's youtube.com, you know), and on and on.
I chatted with him, asked about his family ("not here, which is cool because I can ride all the rides I want and not hear them blah, blah, blah at me"), how he was doing, so on and so forth.
We talked for a bit, then I excused myself to get my own lunch. By the time he had come back, he was gone.
I wish I knew what had happened to him. I hope he's going to have a Merry Christmas.
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