News article for The Gyeongbuk Province Times (Hypothetical since 1862)
Headline: Teenagers Rampage Downtown Gimcheon!
Early last night, hundreds of plad-clad teenagers were seen flooding the local city streets, gorging on lightly blanched fishcakes, deep fried tentacles, and clearly reveling in the carnage as red glaze dripped down their chins from the recently ravaged wastes of deokk bokki, a word that stutters fear even into itself, as its spelling clearly shows. These rice cakes never knew what was coming… One minute they were lazily basting in a warm sea of spicy, saucy goodness, the next they were being heaped into bowls wrapped in sanitary gloves for their own protection… Yes, even the bowls had reason to fear the deokk bokki… But not the teenagers – with toothpicks, an item previously famed for its dental proclivity, they skewered them with a seeming delight, and laughed as they gnashed their underdeveloped jaws upon the quickly snuffed lives of these innocent – if dangerously spicy rice cakes, clearly enjoying it all. But lo, the proto-humans did not stop there – they pranced away from the old sellers of simmering souls – into the cold darkness – only to seek new excitements and intrigues. Apparently, their appetites had but been wetted.
After the destruction laid down upon the booths of many things – they were seen darting in and out of the many stores on the main road that had, until then, known the kind of peace and quiet that only a lazy afternoon in the countryside can offer a shopkeeper sometimes… Yes, these overgrown rugrats, these marsupialine cyberjunkies dove into the unsuspecting shopfronts with fire in their eyes and malice in their hearts… It is the only explanation for what was to follow… It was as if they had to try on every single hat in order to convince themselves that they didn’t really want one after all – and all the testing of pens – good God! The amount of ink lost in those few seconds could have allowed children in lesser lands to do arithmetic that would forever allude them, now that these tornadoes of testing had blown through…
But when all was nearly lost, after the pencil cases had been dismissively tossed aside, and the notebooks completely disorganized – there was a moment where it was as if an angel of clarity flew into the room – As I peered from my safe distance, far across the way, behind the protective enchantment of the aura created by the steam coming from my caramel soy latte. I could see them coalesce as if they had reached a moment of enlightenment – as I squinted to see what they were holding, I could see in their hands small scraps of some sort – they seemed to be of many different colors and designs… So I got up from my seat, considered the dangers, and began walking towards the window…. I stepped outside, warily keeping my distance lest I be spotted by a student or a high schooler who thinks I’m one of them, all the while smelling my latte to make sure it was still there… As I stepped through the gateway of the cafe into the sidewalk, I saw what it was, I saw the trigger of their mood. I saw… the socks…
These socks were no normal socks. They were cute, really cute, dangerously cute if I may say. Dangerous because they distract. They distract teachers from chastising, and schoolmates from focused study – they are dangerous to the cold rigor of morbidity that is required if they are to be the future leaders of their people – Oh sure, people say that they are just children and should be allowed to run free – but they are only safe to be around when they have the socks! Without the socks, they are evil, conniving, destructive beasts of consumption and interactivity. Let this article stand as a warning to anyone who would walk during nighttime in the streets of Gimcheon, Korea. There are teenagers on the loose. And they will stop at nothing to find those cute little socks with all the pictures of monkeys, rock stars, cartoon characters and God knows what else! I was a witness… When they finished swooning like a lion after a feeding on its woe-begotten prey – they fled from there in a fury that could only have been called a stampede, as the dust thrown up in their wake was as dark a cloud as the tension that hung in the air from the places from whence they had just come.
The Following Photo is Unrelated (and should be considered for scratch-and-sniff computer screen status.)
This is what I do to myself when you're not around!
Take care out there.
This story is copyright 2011, James Jordan.