The kid looked about ten, and he was on a bicycle waiting for the light to change. He was buck toothed with curly brown hair, his friend was quiet and wearing a purple t-shirt. "What's up, cowboy?" said the first kid, who was holding a cell phone to his ear.
"Not much." I said.
"What are you supposed to be, a cowboy?" he asked
"Actually I'm a secret agent."
He paused, "Then where's your badge?"
"Well if I carried a badge, I wouldn't be a very secret agent, would I?" I said.
"But you just told me you're a secret agent!"
"It was your clever interrogation that found me out."
"I'm very clever," he said. Then, into his cell phone he yelled, "Oh my god, we got a crazy motherfucker! I'm riding with Joey and there's this guy all dressed in black--hey! Fucking Asian!"
A woman had turned the corner in front of us after the crosswalk light had changed. As we started crossing the street, the kid yelled, "Go the fuck back to China!"
"Watch your language!" yelled a woman waiting at the light.
"Fuck you, you fucking nigger!" yelled the kid.
Aren't children precious? I'd lay odds he doesn't even know what "nigger" means, that he probably just heard his father using the word for someone he doesn't like. I was called a nigger myself now and then in elementary school. But that kid's defence mechanisms sure seemed accustomed to being at full blast constantly.