When I was a kid, my parents wanted to approve everything I watched. We had neighbors who told us that Harry Potter would send you to Hell. Mom didn’t quite believe that, but she thought dark cartoons were linked to bad behavior. Given my penchant for dark cartoons, I tried to hide my viewing as much as possible.

On this particular day, Mom came home early and caught me watching a show I knew she would never approve of. Most episodes had murder or gore, so I knew I was going to get in trouble, but I didn’t say anything because I wanted one last hurrah.

To my extreme luck, the episode being shown was the Friendship Episode. You know, that stereotypical episode in every cartoon where they fight about something ridiculous and spend the episode resolving it and talking about how much they love each other.

Mom approved it with flying colors. She praised the cartoon for showing good relationship dynamics in a world filled with violence and sex. The very next episode, which she didn’t watch, had a person being burned to death.

And that’s the story of how dark cartoons led me to a life of crime… in my writing, at least!

I live in a very bad neighborhood. Mostly the people are what makes it this way. 

One day, my family decides on having chicken for dinner so I take my young daughter with me to get it. When we get to the restaurant, it’s mostly dead — not a lot of customers. I place our order and we move to the side.

While we’re waiting for the order to be made, my neighbor walks in. She’s screaming and throwing her hands in the air. She tells the cashier it’s the worst food she has ever eaten and throws a receipt at the poor cashier. 

My neighbor continues to scream about how bad her food was burnt, how horrible the sides tasted, and how the cashier had to make it right. She keeps screaming even after the manager agrees to replace her food.

My food is done, so my daughter and I immediately leave; my neighbor is still screaming. We go out to find her car parked next to mine with her eleven-year-old daughter inside. 

I ask, “Hey, what was wrong with the chicken for your mom to scream that bad?”

The daughter replies, “Nothing was wrong with it. Mommy just wanted more but didn’t want to pay for it. So she screams at people to get free food.”

(We’re in an assembly meant to review what we can and cannot recycle. The recycling speech is delivered by one of the science teachers who is known for not caring about what school officials think of her.)

Teacher: “I have a box here. It’s filled with this packing paper, which can be recycled.” *tosses paper into the recycling bin onstage* “I can also recycle the box.”

(The assisting student breaks down the box and throws it into the bin, as well, after handing the teacher its contents, a book in a sealed plastic bag.)

Teacher: “This plastic wrapping — recyclable.” *throws the plastic in the recycling bin* “And here we have ‘Dress Code by [Administrator].’”

(She unceremoniously threw the book in the bin. The entire student body cheered.)

Related:
A Vicious Recycle

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(I work stock at a big box chain. It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet, but we are putting out Christmas decor. A woman approaches me, livid.)

Customer: “You’re out of the giant reindeer! I need those!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sure we’ll get some more. It’s still early.”

Customer: “You’d better!”

(Nothing like working retail to ruin holidays for you.)

(I work as a cashier in the service department of a car dealership. An older woman is brought up to the counter by her service writer, who is basically her liaison to the technician and who keeps her updated on what’s going on with her car and the services. She signs the paperwork and starts to walk away.)

Me: “Uh, ma’am, I still need money, please.”

Customer: “For what?”

Me: “For the oil change and the touch-up paint.”

Customer: “Then what was the coupon for?”

Service Writer: “It was for an oil change for [price].”

Customer: “Oh. Then what am I paying for?”

Me: “For the oil change and touch-up paint.”

Customer: “Oh. I thought the [price] coupon would cover it.”

(Evidently, the woman didn’t think there was a difference between the coupon and a gift card.)