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By Jordan DCS

Having received a flyer in the mail with the title, ‘Locke Street Festival this Saturday’, I actually thought to myself, “oh, cool.” Which means I’m getting old and find stupid things fun or I’m just really bored on a Saturday afternoon.

Either way, I wanted to check out this festival of live music, vendors, local cuisine and oh… really, there are how many kids going to be there?

6.    Kids are fucking stupid

Walking through that shitty crowd I couldn’t count how many times a kid almost ate the bottom of my blue Pumas. Just about spilling my boiling hot coffee on so many children’s heads that were constantly in jeopardy yet so clueless to the situation.

Black and white balloons were hitting my face like a giant pair of balls tea bagging me at every corner.

I even saw one future Valedictorian walk directly into a dog. A fucking dog.

It wasn’t like the kid hadn’t been paying attention either; the dog was in his line of vision for at least four-seconds. How do you miss that shit, junior?

The best part was the dog saw the danger coming but was powerless to do anything about it.

On top of it all, these current Denis the Menace’s are all too stupid to realize their errors in life, and the parents are too lazy or out-of-it themselves to correct.

5.    Why are there so many goddamn kids?

Literally swimming through an ocean of eye boogers and kids on the verge of vomiting, I found no relief from the sound of crying and top-of-the-lungs screaming at any point.

If you had looked at it from the outside you’d think, “wow, that’s a lot of fucking kids. I wonder if that Square Pants fellow is entertaining.”

By no means was I expecting this to be an all-adult event – which would have been fucking sweet — but I also didn’t expect to be babysitting every three vendors.

4.    People forget how to walk


With kids it’s understandable; they’re stupid. But adults, they’re the worst offenders of forgetting how to walk. Like walking slow as fuck and deciding to stop abruptly in front of me is a real good idea; once again almost spilling my boiling hot coffee all down the back of one man’s stupid purple button-up shirt and khaki pants. No, that’s not shit coming down your leg; it’s my coffee, asshole.

Just completely oblivious to everything that isn’t a vendor. I understand walking around to breathe in the sights and sounds is what this is about but come on, grandpa, I don’t have all day and your funeral is booked for next week.

3.    You have to go underground to get a coffee

I’m walking up and down this street, sort of hung-over. I need a coffee — which is impossible to find. After about 25-minutes of slipping through herds of children, I finally found a hot dog cart. The woman working whom I will call “I still think I’m 21-years-old” wasn’t very much help.

With her hair “did” as people would say, and push-up bra cleavage, tight jeans that showed all her curves and high heels. Damn shame about that “I’m obviously 55-years-old leathery face.” Some might question what’s up with the outfit at an event like this, especially while serving hot dogs and children everywhere. (See it would have been better if it were an all-adult event!)

Finally it’s my turn after waiting in line and I ask if I buy coffee here; saying “here” in an Eric Cartman voice.

“We have coffee but it’s downstairs,” said I still think I’m 21-years-old.

Oh by the way we were outside when she said “downstairs.”

“Uh, downstairs?” I said.

“Yeah, you have-ta buy a ticket and then come back and we’ll go get it,” she said very ditsy.

Bringing out the big guns, I use my best negotiation tactic. “Can I just go get it… downstairs?”

“No, only we can go downstairs.”

“We?” I said and looked around, coming to the conclusion she has dementia.

Finally after looking at each other like “what the fuck?” she smartened up and got me a fucking coffee from “downstairs.”

Cool Story Bro.

2.    Who buys this shit?

You know the smell when you open a trashcan and a wall of dank just hits you in the face. That’s the garbage these people were trying to sell. And the worst part about it all is they know it’s shitty merchandise but they lie to your face anyways!

I could go into the basement of my parent’s house and bring out most of the shit these vendors try to pass off as new and one-of-a-kind. Like a fucking Dream Catcher? Are we in the 90’s? The fuck.

Nothing was even remotely interesting that would make me want to say, “Yeah, I’ll pay five bucks for that.” And that’s only $5! Clearly the buy of the day was that coffee and even that came with controversy.

A fucking dream catcher.

1.    I wanted to punch at least 30 people in the face

If you walk through enough crowds like at school or the mall you’ll probably see at least one turd acting like a douche and/or looking like one. This will make you think, “Man, I’d love to punch that guy in the face.” Well this event was like that fucking douche called up all his douche friends and they called up all their douche friends and they all met up at the Locke Shit Douche.

I saw an artistic guy wearing a French beret like it was ain’t no thang, obviously showing off his individuality. As I desperately fought back the urge to start strangling him I encountered what looked like an amateur goth band with their ginger haired, freckle-faced leader yelling out to his cronies and anyone that would listen, “Hey, they have balloons!” With my blood boiling with rage I remembered another boiling thing — my coffee – still in hand I contemplated the pros and cons of dowsing this soulless ging and watching him melt, probably.

There were countless old people I wanted to punch too, but then again who doesn’t want to punch old people from time-to-time. So that one doesn’t really count.

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