I'm BAAD!

I am practically a Super Hero! Ahem…Super Heroine. I single-handedly fought off gang-bangers with weapons today at the local park. Yes, Moi! I was all in-your-face, “Don’t mess with this Vigilante Mama!"………………Well, sort of. They might not actually have been gang-bangers, per se, but 80# middle school boys. And their “weapon” was a single wooden bat. And I wasn’t exactly alone with them........if you count the police officer….....Let me start at the beginning.

I was innocently sitting on a bench at our neighborhood playground, keeping one eye on my chic-lit book and keeping another eye on Little Squirt. Out of nowhere came four middle-school boys with longish hair and unruly attitudes. They threw a garbage can into the park, rolled it over and laughed as trash came tumbling about. One carried a bat, which he swung haphazardly around, not caring that there were pre-schoolers in his path. They parked their incorrigible selves at the top of the monkey bars and began using filthy language and hitting the equipment with the aforementioned bat.

I am a pretty patient, tolerant person under most circumstances. But this was our peaceful playground, where small innocent children such as Little Squirt hang out. And the sign at the entrance specifically states, “Children under 12 only.” One should obey the rules.

Me: “Hey guys, please pick up the garbage can and the trash.”
Unruly Hooligans: (Disrespectful laughter.)
Me: (More sternly) “Did you hear me? I said to pick up the trash, please. There are little children trying to play.”
Unruly Hooligans: (More disrespectful laughter and filthy language.)
Me: (Picking up my pink cell phone with the jeweled butterfly charm and pretending to dial.)
Unruly Hooligans: (Possibly shaking with fear. I didn’t actually notice.)
Me: (Pretending to dial more fervently.)
Unruly Hooligan #1: “She’s calling the cops.”
Unruly Hooligan #2: (Runs to pick up garbage can and trash.)
Me: “Thank you.”
Another mother: “They are frequent offenders. I am calling the police for real.”

And so the police officer arrived a few minutes later, much to the hoodlums’ surprise. And he wrote them up and gave them a harsh talking-to. Law, order and propriety prevailed, and the pleasant playground was restored to peace and harmony once again. Glory, Glory, Halleluiah.

There is no need to honor me with a parade. Reflecting on the fact that I was just doing my civic duty without any thought to my own personal safety is reward enough. And now I have a taste for the blood of justice. Dang, it was fun! I’m thinking of starting a “Vigilante Mamas” group or something. We’ll wear matching pink t-shirts, and perps will quiver when we walk by them in our ballet flats, swinging our Louis Vitton handbags. We’ll case all the parks and Toys ‘R Us stores, rounding up thugs by displaying a furrowed waxed brow and bogus cell call, tapped out by our French manicured nails.

I got a glimpse, today, of what it would have been like for my childhood fantasy to come true. I shamelessly admit that I always wanted to be a “Charlie’s Angel.”