Oh, That’s Reeeeal Mature

This story happened many years ago, before I was married, when I was living on my own in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

It was a Sunday morning, and I was walking from my house down to the church I was going to at that time.

As I walked along, I passed a group of three young people — two fellas and a girl — who couldn’t have been older than about thirteen or fourteen. The girl was sitting on a step outside a shop, and the two fellas were leaning against a wall. As I passed them, the girl looked up at me pleadingly.

Girl: “’Scuse me, mister! Would you go into that shop and get us a pack of smokes?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

Girl: *Looking frustrated* “Why not?”

I glanced at each of the three in turn and then looked back to the girl.

Me: “Because if you’re young enough to still be calling people ‘mister’, then you’re far too young to be smoking cigarettes!”

I walked on. But the girl hadn’t finished yet, and from behind me, I heard:

Girl: “Aye, well, f*** you, then, mister!”