Immaturity

I'm a big fan of immaturity. I love it actually. As long as it's directed in the right direction. It's the reason why we have so many vines flooding our web waves. Think about it. My favourite “vine moments” are the “fuckked your bitch!” exchanges.

“Hey, Rob can't even tie his shoelaces!”

“yeah BUT I CAN FUCK YOUR BITCH!!!

Immaturity! Ha! I love it!!!

I heard a story from my friend Kelso that shifted my paradigms of belief a little bit. A little uncomfortably so too. I'll try and recreate it for you the way I remember.

His dad, his uncle and his uncle's friend were off to a party one evening. Driving ofcourse, when there on the side of the road they came across a hitchhiker, a lady about twenty something. Being the kind hearted people that they were, the three gentlemen decide to give her a lift. All's well, they depart.

The obvious conversation ensues. “How are you?” “Where are you going?” etcetera... A little along the way, one of the gentlemen notices how uncomfortable she seems to be sitting. Strapped into her seatbelt and clutching at her handbag ever so tightly. Curious, he asks what maybe in the bag that she seems to be guarding with dear life. “None of your business!!!” she replies first time around. This incites more curiosity from the other two gentlemen in the car.

The conversation rema ins stale for a little longer until the driver, having been haunted by the ghost of curiosity, asks the lady what the contents of her bag are.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!!”

An even more violent reply. Perhaps it's best to leave it alone is the general consensus in the silence that follows.

Eventually they get to the address the mysterious lady with the handbag had provided them. They park and watch as the gate opens and a woman, whom they all assumed was her mother, sticks her head out. There's nothing more to be done, they leave for the party which was the intended mission to be accomplished but in the car remains the bag.

I'm not trying to spook you out. If you are somewhat, spooked out, then I propose that at this point you stop reading.

Back to the story. In the car remained the hand bag and it's contents, this a discovery they came upon the nect morning. What's the right thing to do? Satisfy the burning desire to satisfy one's curiosity or respect someone else's privacy? They decide on the latter and decide to return the bag, approximately a 30 minute drive from their residence.

Back now at the same house they were at a10 or so hours prior, they hoot at the gate, and out steps the old woman from the gate.

“Hi, we dropped your daughter off last night here and she forgot her bag in our car. We thought we'd return it. Is she home?”

“No that can't be. My daughter passed away seven years ago. Can I see this bag though?”

After a silence that seemed to last an eternity she anounces that the bag did belong to her daughter.. But what of it's contents? As politely as they could, they asked to know what resided in the bag. You'll never guess.