I Am The Finder Of Lost Children

I was at The Wal-Mart (the ninth circle of Hell) this weekend and there were some young ladies selling baked goods outside. They were all about 11 to 14 years old and were trying to raise money for their church youth group trip.

Of course, I stopped by to make a purchase. Not because I’m a hog-ass who was craving cookies, mind you. It was for the children, people! For. The. Children. And…and…for Jesus! Yeah, that’s the ticket.

For Jesus and children, not chocolate and muffins.

For faith and humanitarianism, not gluttony and cravings.

I’m a selfless individual sacrificing my figure for those in need. Got it? Ok, good. Now we can continue.

After I made my purchase and a small donation, I turned around to walk off. The young ladies, who were very sweet and polite, were calling out stuff like, “Bake sale!” “Everything is just $1!” They had a lot of goodies left, so they were really trying to get rid of this stuff.

Then one of the girls called out, “We’ll dance for you!” Then another one said, “Just a dollar!”

Shit! I could practically hear every child molester in the county perk up and run to their non-descript white vans, in search of $1 dances by churchy pre-teens.

I really don’t think the girls meant anything bad, but it still creeped me out, and I wanted to go stand near them with my .38 and shoot anyone who tried to mess with them. Did I mention that there were no adults supervising these little ladies? No adults. I believe they are old enough to sell baked goods by themselves, but would it have killed one of their parents to stand out there with them, just to make sure they were okay and that none of them said anything stupid? Like, perhaps, inadvertently making offers of dancing that could attract some of the more unsavory members of our society…

Let me tell you, nothing pisses me off more than child predators. I think death is too pretty a fate for these asshats. I think prison is too good for them, even if they acquire an unwanted cellmate/boyfriend named Big Bubba and a raging case of anal herpes.

These “people” will never be rehabilitated or cured. They will just get better at avoiding prosecution, usually by murdering the child so they can’t tell anyone.

I think convicted child predators should have their body parts cut off with a dull butter knife, starting with their ding dongs. Each day they would have another body part removed, without the benefit of anesthesia, of course. I’m sure that went without saying. Just to mix it up a little, I think a rusty chain saw or machete could be thrown in from time to time. Whack off a finger one day, a toe the next, until there is nothing left but a torso and a head.

Then send the nub to live on Anthrax Island. And surround the island with hungry sharks and lots of stingrays.

And that’s actually my “nice” plan. I’m keeping my “naughty” plan in the vault in case someone ever messes with any of my family members. I can tell you that it involves cockroaches, a scalpel, and rubbing alcohol.

I recently went to Chuck E. Cheese for a birthday party. Many of you know how I feel about this place of torture. Here is a refresher for those who need it. I attempted to get out of it by sticking an ice pick up my nose (which, consequently, is also part of my naughty plan for dealing with child molesters) and feigning a nosebleed. No one was fooled, so I had to go. DAMN!

I was TRYING to play skee ball when I noticed a little girl who was about 2 or 3. She was crying and looking around for someone she knew. The poor kid was terrified! I called my daughter over to make the toddler feel more comfortable. We tried to get her name, but she wasn’t talking at all, just crying.

My heart was breaking at this point. She held my daughter’s hand, and we looked around for her mom. The child didn’t recognize anyone, so we found the nearest Chuck E. Employee, and handed her over.

About 20 minutes later, I saw the little girl walking around again BY HERSELF, still crying! WTF, Chuck E. Employee? My daughter and I again took responsibility and walked the child all over the restaurant and gaming area, asking each parent if they were missing a child.

No one was even looking for the kid! I would have been tearing the place apart if I had a child that young who was missing. That’s the nice thing about having a 9-year-old. I can sit over in the dining area and drink Dr. Pepper and sneak pieces of pepperoni off of the pizzas and stick my finger in the cake icing while she plays games. But who the hell lets a toddler roam around with absolutely no supervision?

Chuck E. Cheese, for all its faults, is a pretty secure environment. Though now I wonder, since the Chuck E. Employee just gave up on finding a little kid’s parents, and turned her loose to fend for herself.

I finally asked for a manager, and she assured me that she would find the kid’s parents. She told me later that the parents were outside smoking, and that’s why we couldn’t find them. I personally think the dumbass parents must have been smoking crack. Would any normal parent just leave a baby to wander around by herself? Hell no! You’ve gotta be a crackhead to do that! And this child was lost for at least 45 minutes. I don’t know how long it takes to smoke crack, but my guess would be about 45 minutes.

This was not the first time I found a lost kid at Chuck E. Cheese. It also happened a couple of years ago, but I found the mom really quickly. (She was actually LOOKING for her kid - imagine that!)

I think I’m going to become like Eddie Murphy’s character in The Golden Child. You can just call me The Finder of Lost Children. Hopefully, I won’t have to go to Tibet or fight any biker gangs. For real, I just got my nails done.